I Stink, therefore I Am

Even the mentally retarded and criminally insane are well versed in the rationalist traditions of post Renaissance Europe, and the famous declaration of Ronald Daycart; “I Stink, theirfor I am.” Long hoping to prove that he hadn’t died as a child, Ronald Daycart took to “thinking” and “critical reasoning” and smelling all things both fowl and delightful with his monstrous french horn. During his college years he sniffed through the pages of Plado and John Stuart Bill and one night after hours of olfactory stimulation became enlightened when he partook of his own malodorous B.O. he realized that it was a logical contradiction for him to be able to stink so badly and exist at the same time–nothing, as it were, has no smell, so how could he, if he didn’t exist, smell so pungently of rotten fartres?

Is the body filled with a soul, like a bavarian cream donut? or is the body more like the crust of key lime pie? With delicious limy innards? I’ll tell you one thing, I’d like a bite of that pie, that’s a nice pie. But what would Daycart say about our soul pie metaphor? Perhaps he would find it distasteful, I personally love Bavarian cream. What does phood have to do with philosophy? All philosophers from time immemorial have eaten food, even the ever changing Heraclitus once ate a ham sandwich. Saint Augustine was reported to have eaten food on a daily basis. Socrates once drank hemlock and died. We can all agree that food, if cooked properly, tastes very good, and that our souls perhaps are maintained by the consumption of food, afterall food is inside our bodies after we eat it (not prior to consumption), the very same place we keep our souls!

I eat 4-5 bulbs of garlic a day–a proven way to prevent scurvy–but it keeps my skin and breath smelling awful and the ladies at a distance. Yet because of this odor do I exist more than other human beings, is my life worth more simply because I smell bad all the time? I am inclined to think so, but this could be confirmation bias. A civilization that held the value of truth above all others, would endorse massive nose jobs for all people, the more ya smell: the more ya know.

Time what could this have to do with time? Time lasts for a very long time, perhaps even until the end of time, but do smells last forever? Does the remnant of a fartre spread out through the cosmos like an expanding balloon filled with toxic argon gas? All farts smell bad, is a tautology, but what about criminally insane people who enjoy a good huff of their own dark deeds? Do they perceive an alternate reality where good things are bad and bad things are worse? Relativism is ironic, and maybe in some cultures they eat there own farts, but I don’t wanna live with these people, I don’t approve of the practice.

Daycards main contribution to philosophy is his notion of an ontology based on odor. If you can smell it then it is real. But can one smell God? Daycard was a devout Jew desperately did he wait for lord buddha to return to outer space and strip the atmosphere away from our planet, but before we all die, we can ask: did god leave afterwifts in the wind detectable by big bang theory? What does cosmic inflation say about the aftermath of divine flatulence? If reality is fundamentally a smell perhaps it is not a stretch (or stench) to claim that God’s creation was gastric in nature, let us look to the scriptures for evidence: Colonssians 14:2; “In the beginning there was Fava beans and God was also there, he ate the beans with liver and a nice Chianti, and fell into a deep deep slumber for 9 fortnights during which he released the cosmic gas that created us all. The lord hath spoken, fear your lord or else I will getcha!.” This passage proves my theory, given the infallibility of scripture.

But the real question is does my theory stink? The more fowl an idea it is the more likely it is to be true, we learn from statistics, in college. How wrong could I be with such a shitty idea? Not very.

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Phosphorescence precedes Adolescence

“Even babies have feelings” I was once told after I had regurgitated a particularly distasteful dead baby joke to an elder. Shocked by the old mans comment I put on my philosopher’s cap and began to dry heave. Could it be true? Could stupid little babies have 100% grow-up people feelings? Then I remembered Fartre’s maxim “Phosphorescence precedes Adolescence” and it dawned on me, infanticide was really really metaphysically unstable. “All these years!” I said to myself, “the old man was right!” I said.

The serious question is how do we cope with the possibility of our having been already killed as a child living as a delusional specter haunting our families and friends thinking everything is A-OK? Can we dismiss our own pre-mortality? Certainly even babies can die, was I not once a baby? Ergo it is at least conceivable that I died as a baby. But why do babies die? I cannot think of an a priori reason, but malnutrition, poison, gunfire, and salt come to mind. We can logically deduce from my birthplace that all these things were present at my time of birth in New York New York. But this doesn’t prove that I am dead.

Let us recall a fable of Zisex in his precipitous work The Snorlax view, “a patient in a large hospital ward with many beds complains to the doctor about the constant noise and crying from the other patients which are driving him crazy. When the doctor replies that nothing can be done if the patients are like that, one cannot forbid them to express their despair, since they all know they are dying, the patient goes on, “Why don’t you put them in a separate room for dying then?” The doctor replies calmly, “but this is a room for the dying.””

What do we learn from this story? Well I can’t make heads nor tales of it, but perhaps the doctor is important, doctors cure sick people, fact, all babies are people (although not all people are babies) and not all babies are sick, but sick one’s are more likely to die than healthy ones and since I was presumably once a baby, unless occams razor is false and all of reality is a lie, ergo I died when I was a baby…no, wait, that’s not right.

Existential philosopher Kieren Sorengaard once wrote a book called either/or which is suspiciously the title of an Elliot Smiff album, a man who, as we know, killed himself although he was not technically a baby at the time. What could this mean? Perhaps deep down inside he had always thought of himself as a baby and not a man. Aren’t we all just babies inside wearing man skin and lady skin? The terrible twos are a time that we never forget, because it is biologically programmed into our spinal cortex, but even Sadam Hussi was a dictator because of his terrible childhood memories, perhaps these memories are of his death as a child which led him to enact terrible violence in our baby ghost world, or maybe not, there is no way to tell.

There has to be an empirically testable theory to determine whether or not I died in childbirth. Some colleagues of mine have argued that because I am alive and speaking I couldn’t have died in childbirth, but why, cannot our senses fool us? Perhaps I am dead and my senses are fooling me into thinking I am a very successful blog master. The hubble telescope can see billions of lightyears into the past, but first it would have to collect light that left earth thousands of years ago when I was born to determine if I, or anyone else for that matter, survived childbirth. Can new technologies determine our role in the galaxy?

Space is very existential, it exists and is very large, but what does it have to do with the deep philosophical issue that I am addressing? Maybe Everything. All children exist in physical space and time, what, if anything is wrong with assuming we all died in space a long long time ago? Who knows not me. Mars rover trips may shed light on our dilemma, but for now let’s just focus on the facts.

A Christian apologist once remarked that there was a delusional guy who believed that he was dead, so he went to the doctors and said “hey doc, I hate to bug you, but I’m dead” and the doctor said “well if you’re dead how could you be walking and speaking” to which the dead guy replied “well this is probably just my body spasming after death” so the doctor went on and on and tried to prove to the man that he was not dead, and finally he had an idea, he said, “okay, I have a question for you mr.dead guy, do dead people bleed?” and the dead guy said, “well, I guess not, dead peoples hearts don’t pump, so I guess they can’t bleed” so the doctor pulled out a knife and slashed his arm, “aha!” he said “look you’re bleeding,” to which the patient responded “Wow! how about that! I guess dead men do bleed.”

Dead men do bleed, what about dead babies? Could our fundamental existential reality be rather like the sixth sense in which Bruce Wilard is a ghost? What did Fartre mean by Phosphorescence precedes Adolescence, does it mean that only the glowing spark of life is alive prior to adolescence which then fades as we are murdered as babies? Or is it a direct reference to the scientific fact that we have glowing skin when we are under the age of 4? Many a smarter man than me have pondered these profound existential questions, what do you think are we really already dead?

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