The House That Zelmo Built

": a principle in physics: the total energy of an isolated system remains constant irrespective of whatever internal changes may take place with energy disappearing in one form reappearing in another" ~ 1st Law of Thermodynamics - Merriam-Webster Dictionary



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"Movement in Time A B . . Space-point A effects space-point B and vice versa. This requires a time, for every effect has to cover a distance. Successive time-points would merge together. With its effect, A no longer impacts on the B of the first moment.

What does this mean: B still exists, and A exists, too, when they meet? That would mean above {all} that A remains unchanged at this and that time-point. But then A is not an effective force, for this cannot remain the same; for that would mean, it had not been effective.

If we take that which has an effect in time, then that which is effective in the smallest moment in time is distinct. This means: time proves the absolute non-persistence of a force. All laws of space are therefore thought as timeless, that means they must be simultaneous and immediate.

The whole world at a stroke. But then there is no movement. Movement labours under the contradiction that it is constructed according to the laws of space and makes those very laws impossible through the assumption of a time: i.e. it is and it is not at the same time.

Here we can help by assuming that either space or time = 0." ~ Time-Atom Theory: Nachgelassene Fragmente, Early 1873




A while back, a little over six years ago to be exact, I developed a theory about the space-time continuum as it relates to our earthly demise and how that in and of itself relates to our living, breathing world. What happens to us when we die?

After Einstein had galvanized his theory of mass-energy equivalence into the general psyche of human society, it opened up all kinds of doors to outside-the-box concepts regarding the supernatural, or things outside of our general perception of nature.

No, I'm not drunk or smoking fucking weed, bitches. Over the years I've had a few brushes with death, and after a while when you experience that shit enough times, it gets you thinking about death in an entirely new light. It becomes less of a fearful subject and more of a fascinating subject. The scary part about it also becomes the most beautiful part, and that is that we all experience it eventually. It's as natural as fucking breathing or taking a shit. It might be ugly at times, but at other times it is peaceful or even refreshing...because who hasn't taken a good dump in their lives? Be honest with yourself, asshole.

When you die, you don't go to any kind of heaven or hell. You instead wander around in some weird kind of limbo where you can fuck around with the living if you want. You instigate all the shit that happens in their lives, both good and bad. You become that little voice inside their heads telling them where to find their car keys or what dark street not to walk down at night because there's some mugger or rapist down there waiting for them in the bushes. Or you're telling the clerk which lottery ticket to give you, or telling the cop to go and get a donut along the route where you're about to get jumped by a gang, or the tow truck driver should go for a drive right along the route where your car is going to break down, shit like that. People who you've known in your life and who pass on before you do the same shit for you or to you.

Sequential time doesn't exist in this limbo either, meaning that all time exists at one point, like what Nietzsche said with that time-atom theory bullshit.

This would explain all the ghostly shit that people see sometimes, or the "miracles" that happen in their lives. This doesn't negate the existence of any kind of God. It just means that shit isn't always as divine as people like to think that it is. Sometimes it seems like there's too much convenient shit going on in life that can't always be left up to chance.


No, I don't have all the answers, but I sure as hell am not afraid to ask the fucking questions.
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"You have created an unsocial monster
And you're searched for all over the globe
And most believe that things would sure be better
If you'd come down here and tell us what you know." ~ 'Chimaera' - Bad Religion

"...in Greek mythology, a fire-breathing female monster resembling a lion in the forepart, a goat in the middle, and a dragon behind. She devastated Caria and Lycia until she was slain by Bellerophon. In art the Chimera is usually represented as a lion with a goat’s head in the middle of its back and with a tail that ends in a snake’s head. This matches the description found in Hesiod’s Theogony (7th century bc). The word is now used generally to denote a fantastic idea or figment of the imagination." ~ Encyclopaedia Britannica




We have recently borne witness to what happens when science becomes a pseudo-religious doctrine in the form of the climate change controversy. Where religion often begets fanaticism, science has also mirrored its social rival in its influence over the mob mentality of collective thinking.

While Christianity and Islam both share a commonality as Abrahamic religions bent on subjugating its followers into a God-fearing enslavement of ideals, science has also gripped secular humanity into its own vise grip of fear through the apocalyptic propaganda machine known as Climate Change. Led by the likes of Al Gore’s 1992 “faith-friendly” book, Earth in the Balance – Ecology and the Human Spirit, it is assumed that we are to be dissuaded from common sense by being threatened into believing that the world is coming to an imminent and tragic end at the hands of our very own progressive development industrial complex. We are judged by the carbon footprint that we leave behind.

On the surface, the scientific argument makes sense. As mankind evolves and progresses in the world, his technological achievements also evolve and progress, with production and consumption eating away at the ecological environment in which he lives. Pollution is the inevitable result of all of this progress, and its immediate impact on the environment is noticeably evident.

Where this argument falters is in its sudden conclusion that because our short-term impact on the environment is indisputable, this means that our long-term impact on the environment must also be indisputable. But it becomes harder to persuade the average-thinking Joe that scientific predictions of a global environmental meltdown due to industrial progress are valid when meteorologists can’t even predict with absolute certainty what kind of weather that we’re going to have at the end of the week. We have probable certainty that it might snow tomorrow, but nature might very well suddenly decide to rain instead. Such is the precarious nature of making weather predictions.

“But climate is different from weather,” they say. It is then that they look to relatively recent climate patterns over the past century for evidence to support their claims. Where this method falls short is in the general disagreement in what constitutes “global warming trends” and “global cooling trends.” The problem with using this template as the basis for an argument is that the Earth has been warming and cooling for billions of years.

There have been at least four known major Ice Ages in recorded geological history. The common sense conclusion that one comes to when faced with this scientific evidence is that, since the Earth has cooled down at least four times over the past 2.4 billion years, then it stands to reason that it has also warmed at least four times during that period as well. So how then was mankind able to influence this warming and cooling cycle when we as a species have only appeared upon the fossil record relatively recently?

There are other scientific theories out there that denote a natural influence upon the global warming and cooling trend that is devoid of any human intervention at all. Milankovitch Theory, which describes the cycle of the Earth’s axial tilt and precession and the eccentricity of its elliptical orbit around the sun over the course of 41,000 years, denotes a natural cycle of global warming and cooling that result in longer and shorter seasons. The Cambrian Explosion of complex animals into the Earth’s fossil record approximately 530 million years ago could have also had a very major impact on the Earth’s ecosystem and its carbon emissions.

These are major events in the carbon and fossil record of the Earth that have no human intervention at all, and yet we are to believe that what is evident to have happened in prehistoric times is also occurring now, but as a result of mankind’s evolution and progress and not some natural device. This is the fallacy that drives the climate change fundamentalism machine of today.

This “flat earth society” mentality of scare tactics by reason of environmental guilt isn’t helped much by recent events involving the hacked e-mails of the Climate Research Unit of the University of East Anglia. This, coupled with the upcoming climate summit in Copenhagen, Denmark and its intent to invoke global socialism upon the economic infrastructure of the free world, implies a grand scheme to indoctrinate a false sense of imminent danger upon an unsuspecting global populace using science as a fear tactic, much akin to religious fundamentalism and its weaponry of God-fearing, used to enact widespread policy and outright crimes against humanity that is seen in many countries throughout the world today.
It is this parallel between science and religion that is most disturbing, because scientists are trusted to remain impartial to agendas, instead relying on inconspicuous data to achieve positive results. What the climate change proponents have instead achieved is a type of scientific dogma meant to manipulate whole countries into adopting the New International Economic Order of the 1970s, which was designed to redistribute the wealth of richer Western nations into the economies of poorer Third World countries via the United Nations.

It is important that we as a common society remain aware and cautious of the cap-and-trade proposals that are currently being considered by President Obama and our Congress, and how they tie in with this global socialism movement, using climate reform as its modus operandi. It is also important that the scientific community re-establishes itself in the wake of political influence and leaves this climate reform junket in the dust where it belongs, so that future generations are not resentful and distrusting of both past and future scientific contributors whose sole intent is to benefit the entirety of mankind and the Earth in which it resides.

Anthropogenic climate change is about as plausible as anthropogenic natural selection. Think about it.

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"I'm looking through a hole in the sky
I'm seeing nowhere through the eyes of a lie
I'm getting closer to the end of the line
I'm living easy where the sun doesn't shine" ~ 'Hole in the Sky' - Black Sabbath



HAARP Facility near Gakona, Alaska

"New York- HAARP refers to the “High-Frequency Active Auroal Research Program”. It is located at approximately 62.39N, 145.15W near the town of Gakona, Alaska. HAARP project is funded by the US Senate and opperated by the US Navy & AirForce.

Jesse Ventura is hosting a program at TV stardom, that digs into conspiracy theories, including alternate views of what was behind the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, and the purpose of a sprawling research center in remote Alaska. Therefore, Jesse Ventura and his team head north to the remote region of Alaska to confront the military installation, HAARP." ~ Haarp Alaska Conspiracy Theories by Jesse Ventura







"A mysterious giant spiral of light that dominated the sky over Norway on Wednesday has stunned experts — raising the possibility of an entirely new astral phenomenon.

Thousands of awe-struck Norwegians bombarded the Meteorological Institute to ask what the incredible light — which could be seen in the pre-dawn sky for hundreds of miles — could possibly be.

Theories have ranged from a misfired Russian missile, meteor fireball, never-before-seen type of northern light, black hole and even alien activity.

Witnesses across Norway all described seeing a spinning "Catherine wheel-style" spiral of white light, centered around a bright moon-like star. A blue "streaming tail" appeared to anchor the spiral to earth, before the light "exploded" into a rotating ring of white fire.

Sightings of the spiral spectacle, which lasted for two minutes, were reported as far north as Finnmark to Trondelag in the south.

Chief Scientist Erik Tandberg, at the Norwegian Space Centre, said that he too was "totally amazed" by the spiral.

He agreed with many other experts that the spiral pattern could have been caused by a missile from Russia — something the Russian military have strongly denied." - Mysterious Giant Spiral Dominates Norway's Sky




Welcome me back, my friends and enemies! It's been a day and an age since I've put something here. Color me ignorant for forgetting about this place. Things look just as shitty as I left it before.

I happened upon our good friend Jesse Ventura's little conspiracy theory by accident, hinted at by my buddy Chainmaker, a fellow blogger who is apparently a local guy here in Alaska as well who loves these conspiracy theories even more than I do.

The anomaly in question wouldn't have mattered a hill of beans to me had I not happened upon Jesse Ventura's dropping of this whole conspiracy mess into my backyard of Alaska. Quite frankly, it amazes me how our government can report the whole shebangabang in plain sight yet blur it with Fox News' notorious brand of misrepresentation of the facts. Never before have I seen a news network so capable of deliberately distorting the facts to the point that they are able to hide the real news such as HAARP in PLAIN FUCKING SIGHT!

I won't go into any further meanderings of ranting and raving. I just wanted to test the waters to make sure that The House That I Built is still running at full capacity. Aside from a few leaky pipes, creaky floorboards, and shit stains on the couch, everything appears to be working as it should. Ta-ta for now, folks!


How's Obama's "hope and change" treating you folks, these days? Did you ever get the feeling that you've been cheated?
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"I'm not anti-society, society's anti-me
I'm not anti-religion, religion is anti-me
I'm not anti-tradition, tradition is anti-me
I'm not anti-anything, I just wanna be free" ~ 'Two-Sided Politics' - Suicidal Tendencies




I haven't been posting shit in here because there's just too much crap going on these days to keep up with it all. Senator Foley likes young boys and the Democrats are all up in arms about it, never mind that the legal age of consent in Washington is 16, so all that Foley is really guilty of is being a faggot. North Korea and Iran are saber-rattling their nuclear swords, and the U.N. is sweating their balls off over it because a lot of their countries are right next door to those two countries. The U.S. couldn't care less because of what is going on in Iraq right now, which is basically nothing but a shooting gallery at this point; are we allowed to fight or not? Republicans are up in arms over the Democratic onslaught this election year, and Bush couldn't give less of a fuck because he's out of office in two years, regardless. The Dixie Skanks have a new movie coming out, so they're complaining about their oppressed freedom of speech again; like anyone fucking cares what that fat little bitch says anymore. And why did Madonna make national news again? She doesn't even live in this country anymore, the fucking slut!

The list goes on and on...

Where does that leave Zelmo now? I sell porn for a living, so why should I care? Okay, I don't really sell porn, but I like to have people believe that instead of telling them what I REALLY do for a living now, which is pretty fucking boring. But it pays extremely well, and I'm a cheap bastard.

My book(s) are sucking ass right now because I have yet to get my home computer up and running. A woman wanted the essence of Zelmo recently...women sense Zelmo's power...he simply denies them his essence. You're just not worthy, bitches. I only date white chicks.

The Alaska Federation of Fucktards are in town this week spouting off their native supremacist bullshit and "kill Whitey" propaganda again. How is this shit legal? The Ku Klux Klan and the National Socialist Party have to get fucking permits in order to stage one of their rallies, but the Alaska Federation of Non-natives-suck and the National Association for the Advancement of Coons and Porch-monkeys can essentially bash white people at will. And people are cool with this? I don't know which is worse...porch niggers or tundra niggers.

So aside from my normal everyday cynicism toward...well...everything, I've been pretty apathetic toward the political arena in general. I'm definitely not as passionate about it as I was a couple of years ago. Perhaps it has finally donned on me that political bullshit is just that...bullshit. Yeah, it's fun to hum and haw and talk a long yard about how much the GOP or the Democrats suck, but in the end, what does it accomplish?

Even the local politics that I'm forced to endure here in Alaska are leaving me numb. I don't give a fuck if Tony Knowles is a Democrat that acts like a Republican, or that Sarah Palin is a Republican that acts like a Democrat, or that Andy Halcro is the seediest-looking fucker of the bunch that actually has the best political stance of the three; even though Halcro doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of getting elected as an Independent Party candidate.

I just don't care anymore. Because like the Suicidal Tendencies song says, it's all two-sided politics. You can lean one way while marching the other way. It seems as though that's all that anybody is doing these days. Even Bush is now saying that we're no longer "staying the course" in Iraq, but are now working on "benchmarks" to eventually pull out of the country, but the Democrats are still wrong because they want to "cut and run"....tell me again what the fucking difference is? Zelmo's Solution #1: Pull out of Iraq, then nuke the fucking place, then blame it on Iran and nuke them, too.

Sometimes, it's best to look at things in black & white because, more often than not, that's the only time when things in general make any kind of sense. When too much bullshit is going on in the world, sensory overload occurs, followed closely by apathy. That's simply the nature of the human mind. We are, after all, creatures of both habit and adaptation; we can habitually not give a flying fuck if given the time to do so.

In the end, my friends and enemies...



...FUCK politics! It's hockey season, bitches!




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"There's a place where everyone can be right,
Even though you remain determined to be opposed.
Admittance requires no qualifications:
It's where everyone has been and where everybody goes.

So please try not to be impatient,
For we all hate standing in line.
And when the farm is good and bought,
you'll be there without a thought,
And eternity, my friend, is a long fucking time! ~ 'You' - Bad Religion



"I have a feeling that the end is near, end of the energy to do, end of my very existence" ~ Dr. Rajendra Prasad - First President of India



"What strange and magnificent sights await us beyond the veil? What glorious treasures and secrets await us in yonder mountains of Isgoth?!" ~ Jonah Agro - "Passing and Legacy"




One morning, I awoke to the sounds of the rushing waters of a river, the bending and sighing of oak and pine trees as they swayed in the wind, and the songs of birds as they greeted the light at the end of dawn. "What is this," Zelmo asked, as I lifted myself out of bed and exited the cabin into the cold morning air, "Where in the hell is our misery?"

"Why, it's gone," I replied, "Gone far away, never to return." We strode up the path to the meadow beyond, and it was there in that wide open space that we found them. Our muses: Melpomene, Thalia, Urania -- our Tragedy, Comedy, and Astronomy! For those are the elements that defined our story from so long ago, time-worn, dusty, and forgotten underneath layer upon layer of memories. That tale that we used to sing ourselves silently to sleep with every night had finally burst upon our conscious mind with the trumpeting glory of long-dormant recall of a euphoric dream; the type of dream that you wish that you could remember, yet only the goodness remains; what created that goodness, that breathtaking feeling in your heart, has already been shut away in the dark fathoms of your sub-conscious mind, never to return.

That story that we created so long ago now writes itself once more. The names of lands far and away now come prancing along in our mind at random intervals. Names and faces, heroes and villains, battles and romance, wars and conquest! From the jungles and savannas of Tartus to the black mountains of Isgoth, there awaits a story as of yet untold. When the fingers itch this much to knead the dough that makes the loaf of bread, one can't help but succumb to the eagerness that is fed by the anticipation of long nights of toil at the yoke of the writer's pen that lie ahead.

Where and when did this enlightenment and reawakening happen, you ask? Somewhere in the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming. We walked alone in the woods one bright and sunny late afternoon when it became apparent to us that we had seen this sight before, though we had never before walked along this path. The deer that stood in our way up ahead had caused a stir within us, and had we a rifle in our hands at that moment, we might have taken that deer for its meat and its horns. And that thought had conjured up our little poem about Dragonsbane, the long-rifle of Sire Ulysses who had wielded it to slay a dragon upon the sea.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we? The story has yet to be told, and too much has been said here already. Why spoil it for ourselves? Yet it all begins to make further sense to us, for the story was never forgotten. No, only tucked away for a time. Even our trademark -- "my friends and enemies" -- never belonged to us, but to that bounty hunter that came upon the boy in the woods, and Vengeance would claim them both!

And so, that's where we'll begin, I suppose. That revelation of a long ago project, all but forgotten, has awakened in our head once more like an explosion in the sky. All in due time, my friends and enemies. All in due time.



The story begins...Zelmo and I are just along for the ride.





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“The Night Was Dark and Cold As Ice I Met That Stranger From Far Beyond My Dreams Staring Into Those Eyes I Was Blinded By a Light Paralysed By The Power I Fell Down On My Knees…” ~ ‘The Awakening’ – Narnia The rain pelted my face and body, and drove a chill deep within my bones, so that I opened my eyes expecting to see bitter clouds above me, but instead I saw nothing but pitch blackness. It felt as though I were lying upon a slab of sharp and uneven rock. I sat up gingerly, my body feeling every ache and pain of exertion, as though I had been lying there for a long period of time. I strained my eyes in a vain attempt to gather my surroundings, but nothing was visible to me. All that I could perceive was the torrential rain and the bitter cold. A steady current of wind flowed upon the nocturnal air, seemingly unfettered by any obstruction, so that the falling rain pelted my body from a sharp angle. I rolled on to my hands and knees, feeling the cold and wet rock beneath me, and I slowly crawled forward through the darkness, completely blind to my immediate surroundings. In a short time I grew fearful, disorientation having its way with my panic-stricken mind. I tried to think but found that I could not. Words could not come to mind; names, faces, anything that my mind could grasp upon to anchor my thoughts and calm my nerves simply could not be comprehended. In a panic, I crawled faster, hoping to get away from the chilling wind and rain, until suddenly it was as though the very earth seemed to drop out beneath me. I felt my hands fall upon nothing, and I fell forward, landing hard upon my chest, the wind getting knocked out of me, my arms dangling beneath me in empty space. I felt my body slipping forward into the abyss, and I scrambled frantically to find something to grab hold of; anything to keep me from falling over what was apparently a cliff. I did not even have time to wonder how far down into the abyss that the cliff face stretched, and even if I had wondered at it, it would have been impossible to tell in the darkness. As I fell over the cliff, my left hand bumped an outcropping of stone. Reflexively, I grabbed it just as my legs dropped out from under me, and I immediately found myself dangling over the abyss. My grip on the outcropping of stone was rapidly slipping, and I found my heart racing with fear. I struggled to find a footing beneath me, but my feet bumped upon crude and jagged stone, not finding a foothold. Desperately, I reached above the outcropping and grasped an uneven edging of stone just beyond it. I pulled myself up slowly and weakly, as I felt the strength being punched out of my arms by the driving wind and rain. The stone was slippery beneath my fingers, and I was barely able to hang on, but I found myself slowly pulling myself up and out of the emptiness that lied below the cliff, until finally I collapsed upon the stony earth in a heap of exhaustion. I don’t know how long I laid there in the damp wetness of the rain, nor did I have any fathoming of where or when I was. All I could feel was the intense relief of narrowly avoiding what could have been my own death, and the chill that the wind and rain sent through my body. But I had apparently drifted off into a light sleep, because I was immediately startled back into consciousness by a bright flash of lightning followed by a loud roar of thunder; it felt as though the lightning struck directly above me. I sat bolt upright, my right foot hanging off over the precipice that I had pulled myself out of only what seemed like eons before. Paranoia struck me then, and I crawled backwards away from the cliff that seemed as though it were a yawning mouth threatening to take me in and swallow me whole. And the whole time, no words were formulated in my mind; I simply could not think. My mind drew an utter blank. I was aware only of myself and my immediate surroundings. I did not even know to call it rain or wind. I knew only what it was doing to me, and that my body did not like it. And then there came a noise on the wind. A light, chattering noise, which rose and fell in pitch, almost sing-song in its manner. Then it rose again to an almost maniacal degree, and it seemed to awaken an old and distant, timeless memory inside my head, until I realized what that noise was without even knowing the word to describe it. Laughter. A cackling, cacophony of mirth, its point of origin unknown. It was upon the wind, above the rain, as though it were from the dark sky itself. I slowly got to my feet and looked around me, but all was still unknown to me in the pitch black of night. I was fearful of the nearby cliff, and thusly I did not walk in any direction right away. But then soon after I stood up, another flash of lightning struck off in the distance, and for a brief second I could see the monstrous mountain that I stood upon, its gigantic mass towering above me to my right. To my left was absolute nothing. Then darkness once again. A short moment later, thunder crackled around me and vibrated through to my very bones. My bearings somewhat grasped, I moved forward slowly, mindful of the cliff immediately to my left, not knowing where I was going or what I was planning on doing. Only that I had to get to some form of shelter, as my body was now beginning to shiver from the cold wind and rain uncontrollably, my knees buckling under the weight of my frigid nerves and spasming muscles. As I walked along the mountainside, lightning flashed again, this time above me and to my left. And upon looking in that direction I could see through the flash of light, that the sky almost appeared to stretch downward below where the earth should be; it was as though the mountain hung upon nothing. I was at an almost impossible height! And then the thunder crashed, filling my ears with maddening decibels. And all the while, above the sounds of wind and rain and thunder, there was that maniacal laughter, and the even more dreadful realization that the laughter in question was directed solely at me. As I continued to shuffle slowly across the face of the mountain, I had begun to feel a creeping sensation that I was being watched from somewhere close by; a pair of eyes following my every move through the darkness of the night. I could almost imagine a pair of glowing snake eyes, their gaze piercing through the nocturnal air and spying my every move, my every thought, my every emotion. To the point where my body seemed to almost feel weighted down by the presence of this gaze upon me. The driving rain created a smattering of puddles of water beneath my feet, and the turf and rock became quite slippery as a result. In the darkness I stumbled, and then my right foot stepped hard upon a sharp and jagged stone. A stabbing pain shot up my right leg from the bottom of my foot like white lightning, and with an agonizing cry I fell forward. For a split-second I panicked, believing that the cliff was right in front of me and that I was once more falling over the edge of it and into the vast unknown below the mountain. But then my knees struck hard and jagged stone as I landed face-first upon loose rocks and a solid surface of unforgiving stone. I laid there for an indeterminate amount of time, feeling the sharp pain of sudden impact ebbing through my body with every pulse of my heart. After a short while, the falling rain began to feel good upon my naked and bleeding body, almost to the point where I did not want to move from that spot. But then a light and tittering laughter from somewhere very close by alerted me from my brief rest. I stood up quickly, ignoring the screaming of exposed nerves in my injured foot and knees, and strained my eyes to find the source of that laughter in the darkness. It appeared to be coming from a location slightly above me and to my right, but the darkness concealed the owner of that laughter from view. During my entire recent ordeal, the lightning of the storm continued to flash; the thunder spawned by that lightning continued to crash. And then it slowly donned upon me that a figure was standing upon a rather large boulder directly in front and above me. The figure at once became the silhouette of a man upon the face of the cliff rising up the side of the mountain behind him, as another flash of lightning illuminated our surroundings. The man stood there; completely still save for the maniacal guffaws of laughter that erupted from his mouth, his arms crossed in front of him, his face obscured from view by the darkness. He wore dark clothing of some kind, though any detail was lost in the night, and all the while I could feel those terrible eyes of his upon me. It felt as though this man knew more about me than I did myself. And then in the darkness, the man spoke. But it was in a language that I could not comprehend. Syllables were thrust upon the night air between us, but to no avail. The figure said something else unknown to me, and then he was silent. For a long and awkward moment afterward, we seemed to stare at each other, almost in anticipation. And then the man jumped down from the boulder and descended the short incline until he was almost directly in front of me. Fearing this mysterious stranger, I backed away from him slowly. But still he came forward, until I was standing face to face with this dark and ominous person. His face was still a shadow to me, and I could smell what could only be described as eons upon his breath. Whatever he was, he knew not the limitations of age. And then I saw those terrible eyes in the darkness once again, only this time with my own naked eyes instead of in my mind like before. Those great, terrible, and glowing snake eyes. They were unblinking, uncaring, and seemingly without any semblance of neither compassion nor hostility. And their gaze pierced directly into mine, shattering my will yet enthralling my vision so that I could look only at them. My knees buckled and I fell forward, but before I could slump to the ground, the man caught me in his arms. And I could feel an unimaginable power behind those arms as they lifted me back up onto my feet with seemingly no effort at all. The man steadied me on my feet, and gripped both of my shoulders hard. Then his words came to me again in that incomprehensible language of his, but as he spoke there came to me bits and pieces of understanding of his words. Syllables came together to form vowels. Vowels tied together with other vowels to form meaning. Meaning became understanding. And understanding became, “For the last time, listen to me, you stupid fuck! Do you know who you are yet?” I looked at the man incredulously as his face became suddenly visible to me, a flash of lightning making this possible, and I saw the face of a young man, though his terrible eyes carried with them a wisdom beyond his visible years. The man looked at me and appeared to be visibly angry as he said, “Hey asshole! Hello-o-o-o! Anybody home?” The man tapped my forehead, “Earth to dipshit! Are you there? C’mon now! Say something!” Obediently, I stammered something unintelligible. The man rolled his eyes and suddenly slapped me, causing me to cry out. “For Christ’s sakes, of all the fucking people that have to show up on this cocksucking mountain, I have to get a fucking retard!” Then a thousand words seemed to jumble my mind all at once. I stammered some more before finally uttering the words, “Where am I?” “It’s about time, numb nuts,” said the man, “I was afraid that I was gonna have to deal with some kind of Helen Keller reject.” The man took his hands off of my shoulders, and I became suddenly aware that his grip had hurt me. I crossed my arms, rubbed both of my shoulders, and whispered, “Pain. You hurt me.” The man frowned, seemingly with frustration, and blurted, “I’m gonna hurt a lot more than that if you don’t come to your senses, dude.” “Who are you, “ I asked, “Where am I?” The man laughed again, and the laughter that I had heard at what seemed like a thousand years ago was suddenly directly in front of me, and it sent chills down my very spine. “Where you are, “ the man chuckled, “Is a little hard to explain. Who I am, however, is the easy part. Call me Zelmo, sweetheart. Everybody does.” Zelmo suddenly shoved me hard, and I fell backwards and to the ground in a heap. I cried out, startled, as he walked up to me slowly, standing above me with a look in his eyes as though he were about ready to attack me. “Who I am is not the issue, though. Who you are is the reason why I am here.” Before I could respond, Zelmo reached down, grabbed me by the neck, and pulled me up as though I were as light as a feather, until I was nose-to-nose with him. In the split second before he spoke again, I saw deep inside the vertical slit pupils of his snake eyes, what appeared to be countless galaxies and nebulae floating amidst a black ether of infinite nothingness; lost in that moment of hypnotic wonderment, I barely heard him as he continued, “You are a part of me. A part of me that I despise with so much FUCKING rancor! I have lived outside of Time, outside of that simple little plane of decaying existence that you call home, your physical universe,“ that last part Zelmo sputtered with obvious disgust, as though the very word ‘physical’ were somehow blasphemous to him, “Away from the trappings of molecular and sub-atomic decay, I have lived. Until finally here you came to be, anchoring me down in this near-reality. Almost flesh; almost…physical.” Zelmo then flung me away as if I were nothing to him. I crashed to the wet earth once more in a clumsy heap, as he turned and walked away from me a short distance. My body hurt with fresh bruises, I winced with pain with every exertion as I slowly got to my feet. Zelmo, with his back turned toward me, chuckled with what sounded like cynical disbelief, before turning slowly to face me again and declaring, “The pain you feel is not genuine. It is not even pain at all. Your mind imagines it because it believes that it must feel pain because of the things that I have done to you so far. In truth, you are not really here at all. This place,” Zelmo gestured with his hand at the mountainside and dark night above, and the random flashes of lightning that spottily illuminated our conversation, “Does not exist in any form of reality save for the one that your mind has created for itself. This mountain is simply your mind’s attempt to establish an anchor of authenticity upon the synthetic world that it has shaped to appease its own primitive limitations. It is your Mount Ego, so to speak. The driving rain is to provide a sense of constant sensation upon your imagined physical body; the lightning is to keep your senses alert and focused; the clouds, quite simply, must exist to provide a reason for the rain and lightning. Notice the crude simplicity of it all?” “And as for me,” spoke Zelmo, as he stepped toward me with an impossible grace of foot, “I am stranded here in this pathetic little prison that your mind has created for the both of us. I - who has seen the countless stars and nebulae; who has been beyond the very limitations of what your kind call matter – am kept here with you, anchored down by our own humanity. I am you…and the irony in that is that you don’t even know who you are yet!” At this, Zelmo raised his head back and laughed heartily, that same maniacal laugh that I had heard from afar, now up close and deafening. It was enough to drive me mad. “Who am I,” I finally asked. “You are nobody,” said Zelmo. “Insignificant to all the magnificence that exists in relation to you. In one of Mankind’s many planes of existence, you are known as Roger. So ‘Roger’ is what I shall call you.” “But why is…why is this…? Why,” I gestured at our surroundings, “Why am I here? Why are we here?” Zelmo laughed again, a prolonged guffaw this time, slapping his knee with obvious hilarity, “Ahhh, yes! The timeless question that Mankind has asked, must ask, and will always ask until His own oblivion in the far future! ‘Why’?” Zelmo raised his hands to the violent sky and screamed, “WHY?!” Then, still giggling, he stepped toward me and placed both hands upon my shoulders, this time gently, and declared, “Why we are here is simple. Your physical body has died. Your mind has moved onward, but I forbid it to go any further…because I am not finished with it. Yours was always my link between the material world and the worlds beyond this shadowy one that we are currently in. This place…” he looked upward and around us, then directly into my eyes, “Is not even real. It is the place between where you live physically and live forever after mentally where time has neither purpose nor meaning. Time does not exist here either, but this place has neither cause nor consequence. It is, for the lack of a better word, irrelevant. A non-descript means to an overall end…a backwoods country road in the middle of nowhere, as you rush to meet your important destination…a recreational fuck on the road to your one true love…catch my drift?” I tried to comprehend his words, but disorientation still kept me from understanding. And the look in my eyes must have told Zelmo thus, for he had turned away and began to climb the steep walk up the mountainside. Without turning around, Zelmo yelled over the wind and rain, “Follow! This is not the place to carry on like two dumbasses at a social gathering. In order to extract your lesson from me, we must get out of this bullshit storm that your mind has created. There will be no distractions!” And as Zelmo continued to climb, I held back, reluctant to follow. I thought about running away from him, but where would I run to? How could I escape and hide when I did not even know where I was to begin with? Then memory of our conversation echoed in my brain; Zelmo said that I was dead. But how could that be, when I could look down at my hands and feel the raindrops falling upon them? When I could feel the water dripping into my eyes, so that I must wipe the water from them in order to see clearly? Can the dead still feel, sense, and perceive? As if to answer my question, Zelmo hollered down from the rocks above, “Hurry your fucking ass, before I climb back down there and kick it!” With questions still lingering and the only answers to them apparently not available anywhere else but from the man yelling down at me, I reluctantly began the long and arduous climb up the mountainside and after him. Following myself, apparently. The foul weather seemed to intensify the further that we climbed, to the point where the torrent had nearly blinded me. Bare, cold rock bit into my hands and knees as I struggled forever upward into the violent and darkened sky. The flashes of lightning grew ever more frequent, and a sudden blast of wind nearly pulled me away from the rocks that I clung to so desperately. I found a small cleft between two boulders that I could not even see and hid there, listening to the harsh wind as it buffeted the mountainside. Carefully, I peered over the lip of the cleft, scanning up the side of the mountain for any sign of Zelmo, but he had disappeared within the turmoil. Exhausted, I huddled back down inside the cleft, though it offered no shelter from the pouring rain, it at least kept the wind off my back. I stayed there for what seemed like hours before I began to feel a strange pang of emptiness inside me. This feeling was alien to me and my newly-found senses, until some long forgotten memory awakened within me and told me what it was: loneliness. Still huddled there within the cleft, I looked directly behind me at the darkness of the sky that was level to my position upon the mountainside. Lightning and thunder continued to wage their war among the clouds far off into the distance. Below them lay complete darkness and an unfathomable sea of nothing. It was almost like witnessing the wakening dawn of time. As my loneliness fell upon me with an even greater weight than before, it struck a deepening panic within me as Zelmo’s words to me earlier suddenly rang true; I was all alone in this world. All alone but for one other being. I climbed up out of the cleft between the boulders, immediately attacked by the gale, and lay flat against the stony earth and edged my way slowly up the mountain once again, this time at a slithering pace. The winds continually threatened to pick up my body and cast it upward and outward into the cold and rainy blackness, but I held my body tight against the rocks, pulling myself ever so slowly and agonizingly upward. The wind laughed at me. The thunder and lightning cursed at me. The rain punished me. My fingers were bleeding, the fingernails mashed and broken from the sharp and jagged stones that I grasped. I wept as I climbed. An eternity passed it seemed, until I lay upon the ground defeated and unmoving, the cold rock pressing hard against my cheek as I sprawled myself out upon the earth. Until I realized that the wind had died a little and the rain had subsided. I had closed my eyes and accepted defeat long before, and slowly I opened them to witness the calming storm. In agonizing and almost unspeakable pain, I raised myself to a sitting position and spied at my surroundings. The wind still howled around me, but it seemed to be blowing in an extremely wide arc, as if I had somehow entered some invisible dome that refused to allow it access. Lightning flashed once again, and I could see the rain flying horizontal behind me, almost like a wall of watery knives beckoning me to come back to it so that it could have its way with my body once more. In wonderment, I looked ahead at what lay before me. There was a soft yellow glow, ever so faint, just above the rim of the ridge above and ahead of me. It provided just enough light to see that the ascent had grown shallow somewhat. I raised myself slowly to a standing position and attempted to walk forward toward that light, but stumbled and fell upon my face in a heap of agony. I crawled forward then on my forearms and knees. I could see in that faint light that my hands were nearly ruined, as small flaps of bloody skin hung off of the tips of my fingers. My bare knees were beyond pain, and bleeding freely. I attempted to regain my feet, tottered briefly, and managed to stay afoot. Walking slowly forward amidst the rocks and boulders, I followed that light further up the mountain, and the further I walked the lesser the incline became, until the terrain was almost level. Ahead of me, though it was impossible to tell the distance in the light, there was what seemed to be a wall of misshapen boulders, strewn this way and that, forming what almost appeared to be a rampart upon the mountainside. And as I walked forward, a shaft of the same yellow light seemed to slowly cut its way down the side of the wall of boulders, until I saw that it was a fissure between the giant stones that formed a natural pathway between them. I limped toward it, a strange eagerness welling up inside me as I found myself desiring to see what lied beyond that pathway. It wasn’t long before I was inside the fissure of rock, the ground uneven and jagged, and the boulders standing high and narrow on both sides of me. The yellow light was brighter still, yet remained a warm and soothing glow, until I walked out into a vast open space beyond the fissure, and saw that I was within a gigantic ring of boulders. I knew not how to measure neither height nor distance, but they thrust upward toward the black sky and looked as though one would have to fall from atop the highest of them at a great height before one would reach the earth beneath in a shattering heap. I looked ahead near the center of the giant ring, where the light originated from. A fair distance away, I could see a figure sitting there in front of the source of light; a small shadow amidst the soft yellow glare. I edged my way warily toward the light, and as I came upon the figure that sat with its back toward me, I saw that it was a hooded figure of what appeared to be a man. In front of him was a small glowing thing; where the light originated from. I walked quietly around and to the right side of the hooded man, making a wide berth around him and the thing. The hooded man, dressed in black, seemed not to notice me and appeared to be staring intently at the small glowing object in front of him. I stopped and looked at the thing and smiled when I realized what it was; a single, solitary flower. “It fucking took you long enough,” the hooded man said suddenly, “I’m surprised that you weren’t late to your own fucking funeral.” I recognized the owner of the voice immediately, as Zelmo raised his right hand to me before pointing at the ground directly across from him and the glowing flower. “Sit,” said Zelmo. I limped toward the spot that Zelmo commanded me to sit and obliged him, grunting slowly as I rested. In that warm, yellow light, I felt the pain in my body slowly seem to dim. I looked at my mangled hands, marveling at the wounds, and yet somehow feeling no pain in them. I looked over at Zelmo, who was a dark figure shrouded by the black cloak that he wore, invisible save for the two glowering snake eyes that appeared from beneath the hood that he wore over his head. His eyes seemed fixated upon the flower, and I found my eyes drawn to it as well. As I looked closer, I saw that small motes of glowing yellow dust rose up out of its red petals and disappeared into the air above it like floating embers out of a fire. The flower sprouted up out of a small mound of soil beneath its glowing green stem; a color that seemed greener than green could possibly ever be. And that’s when I noticed the vibrancy of the flower’s radiance; its redness was of an impossible red, and the yellow light that emanated from the stamens within the disc was like that of a thousand little suns. It beckoned upward at the blackened sky in full bloom, as though it almost wished to fill the sky with the radiant body of light that it possessed. It was then that Zelmo suddenly recited: The rose is a rose And was always a rose. But now the theory goes That the apple’s a rose, And the pear is, And so’s the plum, I suppose. The dear only knows What will next prove a rose. You, of course, are a rose But were always a rose. “That’s Robert Frost, you know. Good poet, but just a tad on the queer side, if you ask me,” Zelmo concluded. I did not answer, instead looking onward, enthralled by the flower’s seemingly infinite beauty. Zelmo, in black, stared at it as well. Though what his thoughts were, I neither knew nor cared to know. There was a fragrance in the air that seemed to tingle my nose and sent a warmth up my nostrils that soothed my senses to the point where I began to feel drowsy. The rose seemed to send vibrations through the earth around it that sent a warm buzz of euphoria up into my very bones. I couldn’t have moved away from it even if I had wanted to; the feeling was that serene. “What a wondrous thing it is, to gaze upon the Universe, isn’t it,” Zelmo asked me, his voice still powerful and booming. Still I did not answer, though Zelmo continued on, “All things that exist both here and beyond are but of one universal constant. Relativity is the synonym that resonates from measurements of distance and time. A drop of water into the ocean will ultimately cause a tidal wave halfway around the world. The moth wings that beat upon the air along the plains of Africa will ultimately cause hurricane winds in the Caribbean Sea. The baby borne of two loving and devoted parents in Vienna, Austria ultimately grew into the monster that Adolf Hitler had become. Energy itself is in a constant state of movement, always changing, ever-morphing; so that it never ends. As long as there is the presence of particles and/or anti-particles colliding with each other or moving through space, you will have energy. Hence, the Energy Constant.” “Look closer at the disc of the rose,” Zelmo continued, “Tell me what you see.” I did as he said and gazed deep into the yellow light that almost seemed to flow like water upwards and out of the depths of the rose. For a while I saw nothing but that same glorious yellow glare, but then after a while I began to fancy that I could see what appeared to be thousands of tiny stars and galaxies floating along the stamens, almost as though they were rotating ever so slowly around the inside of the disc. “Behold,” Zelmo whispered, “Your Universe.” They were indeed galaxies…and stars…and nebulae…and all the wonders of the cosmos, trapped inside a little rose that was more than merely a simple rose. An awestruck silence enveloped me. I could not even attempt to think or feel. I was at the core of all things; the very center of the Universe. It took all my will to dare a question, in a nearly voiceless whisper, “What is it?” Zelmo chuckled softly before replying, “It is what all men desire most out of their futile and temporary lives. It is the answer to all questions. The secrets of all things, laid bare and naked against the empty sky for all to see, though you and I are the only ones that are present to see it. But for you, it is only what your mind can comprehend. Your mind cannot possibly fathom what it truly sees, so long as your Humanity remains. I see it for what it truly is, and it is not that precious little flower that you see with your own eyes. Its true form cannot possibly be explained to such a puny, pathetically human mind as your own. You simply do not possess the immortality to perceive it.” Looking on in wonderment, I finally whispered, “I see galaxies…” “You see the heart of the Universe, Roger, “said Zelmo. “You see the symbol of all Existence in the closest thing that your mind could comprehend for it. It is much more fragile than that rose you see. It is actually quite amazing at how close the entire Universe is to chaos and disarray.” I looked up at him in bewilderment and asked, “It balances everything?” Zelmo looked up also, startled, then chuckled and replied, “Yes! It does. Goddamn, negro. You’re a bright motherfucker!” “Then why is it here in this place, if this mountain and everything around it is supposedly inside my head?” “Okay,” said Zelmo with a frown in his voice, “Now you’re starting to get stupid again. This isn’t your head, you dumbass. You’re dead, remember? This is all simply what your mind perceives for itself; it’s seeing what lies beyond it, but can only interpret it to you in your own self-prohibiting, primitive human terms. While your mind lives, it must maintain its own sanity, so it finds itself a world to live in and things to look at, because without anything to perceive, it would degenerate into insanity. Your mind can live without a body, but it cannot live without some sense of logic and order to maintain itself and its functions.” I tried to comprehend all that Zelmo was saying, but after a short while I simply shook my head and told him, “I just don’t understand it. I don’t understand how I can be here and not here at the same time.” “Of course you can’t,” said Zelmo, “You’re still human. You’re still a part of that mortal coil even though you’re no longer actually physically living within it. But,” and he stood up as he said this, “That will all change over time…HA! HA! HA!” Zelmo leaned back and guffawed, with both fists on the hips of his black cloak, “What am I saying? ‘Time’? There is no time here! No real time, anyway. Only the imagined time that your mind keeps fooling itself into believing actually exists.” Then without a word, Zelmo turned and began to walk slowly around the small mound of dirt where the rose continued to glow, apparently lost in some deep thought. He then looked back into the soft, yellow light of the rose, and I could once more see those glaring snake eyes, brooding in their terrible yellow gaze, as if they were engaged in some silent conversation with something inside the rose. Nervously, I asked, “So what are we going to do now?” Zelmo stopped pacing and stood directly behind me. I could not see him, but I could feel the heavy weight of his gaze upon me, and a lump entered my throat. “What are we going to do,” Zelmo asked, “We are going to start with our lesson plan, Roger. You are now my disciple. I am going to reveal to you what you cannot see beyond this place, and what you have left behind in that pathetic, physical world of yours. The Earth is but a tiny shitstain on the underwear of all Creation, but it has its uses. Mankind has created much in His short time span upon it, most of it worthless, but some advancements have brought their merits with them. But in order for you to understand just how much the Universe beyond dwarfs your pathetic human race, you must first understand what the human race actually is.” Zelmo laughed heartily again, an evil laugh that had an almost intoxicating mirth to it, so that I almost felt compelled to laugh with him. And then Zelmo fell silent. The lessons had begun. A little sneak preview of what is to come next after the Army gives me a little free time later on this year. .

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“Others that bear no name, who feel that life’s a game,
My verse they will defame, we suffer all the same.” ~ ‘Misery and Famine’ - Bad Religion




Before we delve any further into the hows and whys of our existence, I suppose that we ought to get a few formalities out of the way. First and foremost, I’m not the nicest guy in the world, and a lot of that will translate into these pages as you read on. I swear, drink, and make racial slurs as a part of my everyday conduct. Political correctness is a term used to describe pussies in my book (not the one that you’re reading right now….but I guess that works, too); people who are too afraid to truly speak their minds use the P.C. philosophy to sugarcoat their own words and meanings. This in turn often makes them come across as either holier-than-thou or patronizing, or both.

For example, we often see news reporters and/or news anchors on TV refer to black people as “African-Americans”. Just once in my life, instead of watching Tom Brokaw say something like, “2 African-American men have been indicted on murder charges in Orange County after the body of a 29-year-old woman was found half-buried in a park”, I would love to see Ol’ Tom blurt out, “2 niggers were indicted today on murder charges in the O.C., after the carcass of some 29-year-old bitch was found buried in the dirt like a doggy bone in some rundown, shitty-assed park in that stinkhole Los Angeles dump”, just to make me laugh out loud. But then again, that would only be for the sake of humor. *evil laughter*

Political correctness, in all seriousness, translates into nothing more than a lot of needless tact and too many goddamned syllables. My above example was just me kidding around, naturally. You wouldn’t necessarily have to say the word “nigger” to describe an African-American; you could simply refer to them as “black”. This in turn could translate to any other race of people in this country; why call them Hispanic-Americans when you could just call them Hispanics? The same goes for Italian-Americans, Chinese or Japanese-Americans….even Native Americans. In fact, why even call them hyphenated Americans at all? Why not simply call them Americans? I mean, they all live here in this country as Americans, at least the legal ones do. So why bring their country of origin into the mix? If they are not American nationals, then call them our guests. Unless they’re here illegally, of course, in which case we could just tell them to get the fuck out of the country and send them packing back to whatever third-world shithole that they came from like the sneaky little criminals that they are.

But I digress.

Know this, O World of Mediocre Miscreants, Dullards, and Insignificant Miscellany, that I call myself Zelmothustra! I am the Alpha; the Omega; the brashest, most arrogant motherfucker ever to breathe the same air as you impotent fucks! I like to vent. I like to talk about bullshit. I like to bitch and moan and complain to no fucking one in particular about shit that pisses me off. Whether it be the fat lady standing in front of me in the express lane at the supermarket with her WIC card in hand and her shopping cart overflowing with junk food and baby formula while her cell phone is ringing and her remote starter is getting tangled up in the car keys to her brand-spanking-new 2005 Pontiac GTO, or the stupid old fart that drives 20 mph down a 45 mph stretch of godforsaken wannabe-civilized country road stuck smack-dab in the middle of East Bumfuck, Illinois…and my ass is stuck behind him in traffic, or the fact that I absolutely hate to repeat myself to some incoherent-to-the-English-language fuckwad wetback who just stepped off the boat and is asking for directions to wherever when he can’t even read the fucking English roadsigns to begin with; or the fact that I believe that the world is actually a better place without Saddam Hussein in power over there in Iraq, but leave it to the bleeding-hearts in the United States of Americanically-correct to question how our government, the greatest friend to nihilism in the history of the world, is providing them with the freedom that they take for granted.

Yeah, I know. Everyday life is one grand catastrophic mess on this carbon-based, biologically-enhanced rock floating in a vast sea of eternal cosmic pitch. But hey, a few 40-ouncers of Icehouse makes it all good in the end, nigger. (cracks open a cold one)

Don’t worry though, dudes and dudettes, not everything that I will dictate to you here will be negative. I’m actually a pretty nice guy. Come to think of it, I’m probably one of the nicest fucking people that I’ve ever met. You see, I have to be nice in order to keep my charming façade alive, since that is what disguises Zelmothustra (or Zelmo, for short) from the rest of the idiots in the world who wouldn’t understand my brand of logic.

“But wait a minute, “ you ask, “Aren’t…you Zelmo?”

Well, yes and no. Most people, when they see me out in public, assume that I am a mild-mannered dipshit Eskimo from Alaska named Roger. This is just fine with me, because it keeps me legit, so to speak. But know this, that I am not the civilized everyday man known as Roger. Roger is a fucking pussy who would rather see the good in all people, instead of strictly the worthlessness in them that I see. If I had my way, I would cast Roger aside and take control of his organic vessel of a body, and then show the world what a real bad motherfucker is all about. But sadly, I need the twit to keep me respectable, and he’s a bit better at the written word than I am. He can barely speak worth a shit; I swear he’s never gotten any formal spoken word training in his entire fucking life. But he’s a hell of a damned good writer, and a top-notch speller. Who needs a dictionary and a fucking secretary when you have that piece of shit around, anyway? HA-HA-HA!!!

But back to the point, bitches. Regardless of whether you love me, hate me, or don’t give a shit about me is inconsequential. All that matters is that you are you, and I am Zelmo, and the world is what we live in, and the universe is what that world consists of. In this mortal coil of three-dimensional sequential carbon-based half-life, that’s really all that matters. A wise man by the name of Hutton once said: “There is no vestige of a beginning, no prospect of an end…” And as I study that phrase, I realize that in the end, what sins we commit in this lifetime, or what accomplishments that we achieve, matters little to nothing in the Grand Scheme of Things. The measure of a man or woman is not in the man or woman themselves, but in what they have accomplished in their lifetimes, and what lasting effect that their accomplishments have had upon others who share the same society that they have. But since accomplishments that we achieve matter little to the Grand Scheme of Things, it must be reckoned and deduced that we ourselves matter little to it as well.

What matters to us as human beings, matters only to us, because human beings are trivial beasts. Look at the birds and the bees outside your window, wifebeater! Do they care that you beat your wife? Now start beating the birds and killing the bees! Does your wife care that you’re beating and killing them? No! She’s just happy that you’ve stopped beating her!

Because it’s all about relativity, you see. What matters more than the entire world to you, would undoubtedly mean less than jack shit to me, and vice versa. Human beings are so arrogant in this way that it is astounding. Mankind believed for centuries upon centuries that He and His Planet Earth were at the very center of the Universe! But as time passed on and as technology advanced, Science proved to Mankind that the Earth was but a tiny speck of organic debris set upon the dark vastness of space and time. And Mankind was humbled, while the Universe was busily destroying whole stars and galaxies; cosmic bodies and collective gargantuan proportions that dwarfed the Earth in circumference and mass.

And who am I in all of this, you ask? Well…..to put it in layman’s terms, I am the all-encompassing Perspective; the One who has seen and accepted the fact that Mankind is nothing in the face of all that truly matters. Zelmothustra is my name, because without a name, your human mind could not categorize me into a convenient and understandable thought process; you therefore could not understand nor comprehend my purpose and the very reason I exist.

For example, your God needs a name. Otherwise, who would you pray to? And if you did not pray, then you would feel all alone in this vast Universe, cowering like a lost little child with no one to watch over you. Because that’s really all that God is in the end, isn’t it? Mankind’s babysitter.

Poor, pathetic, and worthless Mankind.



Thus spake Zelmothustra!




This was written over a year ago.






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