Stupid Chess

(number-10)

True, I wrapped this up some time ago, but after doing supper and watching The McLaughlin Group I am in the mood to do a little chess. In the previous games (with the exception of the game with el fisho) my objective was to present chess in the context of quality cogitation, consistent with, say, TMcLG. But I understand your yearning for stupid chess. Therefore I will now present a stupid chess game played by a stupid chess player (my opponent). Enjoy. I play Black in this stupid game: 1.e4 c5 2.Nc3 e6 3.Nf3 Nc6 4.d4 cd4 5.Nd4 Qc7 6.Qf3? Nd4 7.Qd3 e5 8.Be3 Nf6 9.a3 Nc6 10.Qd2 a6 11.Be2 d6 12.h3 Be6 13.O-O Be7 14.b3 O-O 15.Rad1 Rac8 16.Na4? Ne4 17.Qd3 Bf5 18.Qd5 b5 19.Nb2 Nc3 20.Qf3 Be4 21.Qg3 Ne2+ (0-1) The notes on the back of the scoresheet (written in ink) read: 'All the buttfuckers were there tonight. It was quiet. Very quiet.' A further note written in pencil reads: 'This guy looks Asian. No NTD tonight.' My impression is that the pencil note was written before the ink note and that the ink note was added in front of the pencil note.

Maybe next time I will show you MY stupidest game. Maybe not.

Time to Wrap this Up

(number-9)

Rereading the previous posts at 2345 local I can see that this new idea works quite well. I will therefore incorporate this new idea in future posts. I don't mind being snickered at because I am drunk, but it seems to me that my boozedness ought to at least be judged in proper sequence. I am now drunk as a skunk. This leaves me free to speculate.

I just concentrated on the next piece on the current disk, BPC#3. I don't like it. I like #1, #2, #4, and #5, especially #5. #3 sucks, except for #3-2, which has a certain sexual appeal. These are all the Beethoven piano concertos. We used to do #5 in the living room on pot trying to put a puzzle together. I already told you about that.

Time to wrap this up.

Frank Sesno

(number-10)

Frank Sesno is back on CNN. Where were you all these years, Frank?

Never Forget

(number-8)

Which brings us to the question: 'Why can't the Jews forget? Why do the Jews go on and on remembering stuff they should have forgotten thousands of years ago? Why?'

The answer resides below the Jewish belt. The Jews can never forget. Mother Nature created the Jews intact, but the Jewish god WHTZSNM insisted on sexually mutilating the male Jew, and this can never be forgotten by the male Jew. The Jewish mantra, 'Never forget!' was extant in Jewish psychology long before Hitler tried to extinguish European Jewry. 'Never forget' is an eternal racial mantra which has its root in circumcision: the Jews are penile-ly unable to forget.

I think the Muslims also have this mantra, hidden far below the Muslim consciousness.

The Bush Administration has absolutely no appreciation for this kind of thinking which is fundamental to understanding not only the Jews but the billion Muslims with whom Pat Robertson and George Bush would have us do war.

'Forget'

(number-7)

I've just finished reading the previous posts and I approve of the numeration. It all makes sense to me now (at 2240).

I was thinking today as I was driving to the super market about why Beethoven's piano concerto was so endlessly fascinating to me when I'm drunk. I came up with the answer: booze. Booze tends to inhibit memory. Therefore when I'm drunk I forget. The result is that I forget BPC-1, and when I hear it again on the next drunk it presents itself in its original beauty. So it never gets old with me. I forget it.

Then, next drunk, I am able to enjoy the beauty of it almost virginally. I never get tired of it. This might be an extremely rare attribute of booze. Or it might be a common use of booze, unfortunately.

'Forget.' Jews say, 'Never forget.'

Vote for the Devil

(number-6)

Strange to say, the latest tape from Osama Bin Forgotten has more empathy than the BA has ever exhibited. It seems to be unbelievable: empathy from the architect of 9-11?! Bizarre. I don't have time to explain 'empathy' in this regard. Do your own research. Think, 'apparent empathy.'

I have now reached the stage where my cogitations ought not to be taken seriously. So you must not place too much weight on what now follows (at 2221).

My carbon-based CNS does not find a candidate worth voting for. But it does find a candidate worth voting against. So if you are looking for advice in this regard then I advise you to vote against Bush. Better to vote for the devil you don't know than the devil you do know.

They Had No Empathy

(number - 5)

And so Bush initiated the disaster which we now refer to as the Quagmire in Iraq. Things are not going well in Iraq. The Bush administration thought that after we invaded Iraq the Iraqi males would convert to Christianity and do foreskin restoration. The BA apparently had no capacity to put themselves into the skins of their opponents and reason from their perspective. That is to say the Bush Administration was (and now is) suffering from a fundamental personality defect: lack of empathy. They had no empathy.

A Family Matter

(number-4)

I see Bush as unqualified to be president. Bush's election was an aberation, fascilitated by Gore's choice of a Jew to be his vice-presidential candidate. That is how I see it. Many of us saw Gore's choice of Leiberman to be pandering to the Jewish Establishment, which is a powerful entity in American politic - not to mention a powerful entity in American medicine (check the nearest penis if you have any question of what I mean by that). We were turned off by Gore's choice and some of us voted for the Idiot Bush as a result. I did not vote.

Then came 9-11. And it came on Bush's watch. The question is: would 9-11 have happened on a Gore - Leiberman watch? Some of us don't think so, me included (boom).

9-11 turned out to be a disaster for America and also for Bush, who had been ignoring the problem of Terrorism in general and Al Queda in particular. In fact, the attack on 9-11 caught Bush so flat-footed that all he could do when informed of the attack against America was to just sit there for five minutes listening to a child tell him about her goat.

The 9-11 attack was a death blow to the Bush Administration... unless they could turn it into a political advantage. How to do that? They started off on the correct foot when they implemented the CIA plan to attack Al Queda in Afghanistan (the Pentagon had no plan). This approach worked, but the BA was well aware that success in Afghanistan would not necessarily bring reelection. And reelection was the ultimate family goal, the previous Bush having failed in that regard. I call this 'the Bush family politic.'

Then there was the unfortunate confluence of oil and Saddam. Bush had not previously been successful in the oil business, but here was an opportunity to be successful in oil PLUS do in the family foe who just happened to be the current national foe. It must have seemed to Bush that God Hisself had arranged this constellation of situations, and that he and God were on actual speaking terms. Bush must have become convinced that the voices he was hearing in his head were the voices of God (tap).

So Bush attacked Iraq, forgetting about Afghanistan and Osama, but remembering that a war president is rarely if ever not reelected. Bush's aim was reelection. Bush's aim was family name rehabilitation. Bush's objective was to not be the second - and possibly final - Bush to serve only a four year term. It was essentially a family matter for Bush, plus oil.

Halloweentime

(number-3)

Been watching Frontline in the last few weeks, which has had some really excellent information of interest to voters. There was a profile of both candidates which was informative and the most recent installment, titled, 'Rumsfeld's War' was fascinating (tap). In fact I am an 'information addict' of sorts: my taste in tv is purely informational, with the exception of Survivor and Millionaire.

(And the Today Show. Argh. This was the annual Halloween show where Katie and Matt and Al and Ann dress up for Halloween. This annual event is always interesting. But I must admit that I was turned off by Katie and Matt. Yuck. I found Al 'reasonable' in the drag of Okra, and I found Ann's black panties absolutely fascinating. But sad to say, both Katie and Matt were disgusting. This is extremely unusual for Katie and fairly unusual for Matt, although he does seem to have a predilection for female impersonation on Halloween.)

My interest in non-fiction information makes me an expert on the subject, of course, and it occured to me that you might be interested in (tap) in my observations on the political process. In any case (whether you are interested or not) I will present my observations.

American Sausage

(number-2)

The American political process is fascinating to me. It is also disgusting. I have a love-hate view of the process. It seems to me that by the time this process has run its course the discerning prospective voter will have been so turned off that if he decides on one candidate or the other he may be too disgusted to vote: both candidates will have been shown to be unqualified for office. Why vote for either one? The process has been compared to the discovery of how sausage is made. And now I have a title for this post.

Post Sequencing Problems

(number - 1)

I Just finished reading the nonsense in the last series of posts (stomp). I'm wondering whether the apparent disjointedness reflects more than simple drunkedness. I'm thinking that what we have here is not only a booze problem but a Blogger problem. In the first place, the flow of subjects is reversed. That is a problem. In the second place, Blogger does not represent time correctly and I must always add an hour to Blogger time. But when I'm drunk I tend to forget to do that, so it is possible some of my posts are out of synch. But I can blame only so much on Blogger. Is there a way I can clarify the sequence of posts? I think so. I'll try labeling the posts in order of creation. This is number one (n-1). Will that work? We shall see.

But I have just run up against another problem: I like to invent juicy titles for my posts, and I am reluctant to spoil those titles with sequence numbers. On the other hand, burying the sequence numbers in the text makes them less available. Hmm. What we have here is a dandy little dilemma.

And I think I have solved it: I'll write the post number for the current date as the first entry in the text. This will make the post number obvious while at the same time leaving the title line pristine. Yep. That seems to solve the problem.

Chess Life

Amazingly I received a postcard from the USCF today. It begins with,

Dear former USCF member:
WE WANT YOU BACK!

The offer goes on to describe savings in regard to subscriptions. I am impressed. So I will rejoin the USCF, not that I know anybody in chess nowadays. But it seems to me that their offer is a bargain. I have a stack of CHESS LIFE more than a foot high. This might add another couple of inches.

Which brings us to a chess game I was playing over today. My opponent was a certified A-player who would later become an expert at least. The game ended in the fog of confusion which precludes accurate history. In other words I stopped recording the game when seconds became precious increments of time. Here is the game. I played Black:

1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 g6 3.Nc3 Bg7 4.e4 d6 5.f3 O-O 6.Be3 Re8 (This might be the Saemisch Variation of the King's Indian Defense. In any case we both knew it fairly well, having played it from time to time. I rarely played the KI, preferring the Nimzo instead. Why did I play this defense on that night? We will never know. I don't remember.) 7.Qd2 e5 8.d5 c6 9.Nge2 cd5 10.cd5 Nbd7 11.Ng3 Nc5 12.Be2 Bd7 13.h4 h5 14.Bg5 Qb6 15.Nf1 Na4 16.Ne3 Nc3 17.bc3 Nh7 (Remember that we were totally involved in in the game. Our clocks were ticking. Time was running out for both of us. Yet we needed to allot enough time to each move in order to ensure that there would be no 'surprise' in the immediate future.) 18.g4 Ng5 19.hg5 hg4 20.fg4 Rac8 21.Bd3 Qc5 22.Rc1 b5 23.Rf1 b4 24.c4 a5 25.Ke2 a4 26.Rb1 Rb8 27.Kf3 Rb6 28.Nc2 b3 29.ab3 ab3 30.Na1 (There is no more abject position on the chessboard for a knight. I must have been savoring the moment)...Rfb8 31.Rb2 (being gassed here) Bf8 32.Rh1 Qc8 33.Qg2 Bg7 34.Rhb1 Ba4 35.Qd2 Bf8 36.Qa5 Bd7 37.Rg1 Ra6 (I think this game control was G90. That is, each player had to finish his game in 90 minutes. There is no time information on the scoresheet.) 38.Qc3 Bg4+ 39.Rg4 Ra1 40.Rb3 Rb3 41.Qb3 Qc5 42.Qb2 Ra3 43.Ke2 Qa7 44.Qb1 Qd4 45.Rg1...

The scoresheet ends there with the comment ' 1/2 - 1/2 around move 60 - 65.'

The notes on the back of the scoresheet read: "I got in Emerson's face about his smoking in the room. He got REALLY pissed. I called the NTD. Also, I was originally scheduled to play O'Neil but NTD changed the pairings. No Friday night chess. This is the last night at FH-III."

Stay Tuned

I'm thinking about raising more Ganja. Unfortunately I have no contacts, and no seeds. I have searched the freezer more than once and there are no seeds. So I am reduced to looking for Ganja on The Internet. I am convinced that I will be able to come up with some potent Ganja seeds eventually, internetwise. Am I correct? I think so.

Therefore I will Search the Internet. I will find some seeds. Then I will grow some Ganja. Then I will write this blog under the influence of Booze AND Ganga. Should be interesting.

I just did a Google search for Marijuana. Looks to me that there are a lot of seed suppliers out there. So I will buy (tap) some seeds. I will grow my very own Ganja. I will furthermore report to you (and the ACSD!) my progress. Then I will smoke my Glorious Ganja and report to you alone, you lucky devils!

So stay tuned. We are going to do something interesting here.

Rationality Produces Amazement

This brings us to the place where I have gone over the edge. I have gone irrational. You are privy to this fairly common event. We both know that Kootch has defined the situation and that she is correct. So here we sit. I don't know about you but I am bored. Irrationality is boring.
How shall I proceed? Remember that I am irrational. Should I try to convince you otherwise?

I don't think so.

On the other hand, sanity is interesting. I am really sane. You know that, I know that. Kootch knows that too when she is awake. Rationality and Reason produce Amazement.

The Vampire Sign

It's one AM and I just walked into Kootch's bedroom drunk as a skunk to say hello (Kootch had just got up to pee). I expected that she would greet me in a civil manner but I was wrong. She raised her two hands between us and formed her two index fingers into the shape of a cross. It was the 'vampire sign.'

Kootch and I have agreed that whenever either one of us goes irrational, then the other should raise the 'vampire sign' to indicate that there is a problem. This agreement has worked. And it worked just now, as I sheepishly vacated her room.

I recommend the Vampire Sign. Sometimes you never know when you have gone over the edge.

You Are Living in a Dream

Only you are relevant. There is no God. There is no superhuman being out there fighting off Earth-killing asteroids while us humans debate the politic of contraception. You are living in a dream.

So I can pass through this political season equanimiously, laughing from time to time at events.

It is true that from time to time I talk to God. That much is true. God has never answered. And I don't blame God for His reticence in these particular cases. Consider this: most of the time that I bother to talk to God I raise the Stinkfinger Mudra to the heavens, and I say something like, 'Do you see this, God?'

I have never received an answer. God is blind and deaf.

Reasonable Drugs

This brings us to the idea of 'reasonable drugs.' Alcohol fits within this Idea. Our collective brain has come to realize that Alcohol is not an entity to be fucked around with, and so it has legalized Alcohol. We wonder about other drugs. Are there other 'reasonable drugs?' We wonder.

Nowadays we are struggling with the idea.

I propose that we consider Marijuana and LSD to be in the category of 'reasonable drugs.' I propose both of those drugs on the basis of 'upside-downside economics.' I am convinced that both drugs contribute much more to 'civilization' than they take away.

In the case of Marijuana, most everybody does it!

In the case of LSD, the argument must necessarily be more subtle: most folks who do LSD are not willing to do LSD more than once. Furthermore, even those folks who do LSD repetitively eventually drop the practice. Therefore LSD ought not be considered 'an addictive drug.'

But most folks who do LSD will say that the experience improved their lives. This is important. Those people will furthermore say that LSD introduced them into an enormous world which had previously eluded them.

Nature Invents

This brings us perilously close to the end of our present encounter. I am buzzing my brains out. This can not go on. But Daruma says, 'Yes it can! Do it!' Hmm...

You know wh (Kootch just flushed the toilet at 10:27pm and so I turned around to catch her as she passed from the bathroom to her bedroom behind me. I waved to her and said, 'Hi!.' She smiled and said, 'Hi,' then returned to her bedroom.).

Am I in the mood to write about Daruma? Negative. The times are political. I am in the mood to write about POLITIC. Do you know that Daruma invented Caffine? Daruma invented caffine when he cut off his eyelids so that his eyes were forever open. That is the legend of Daruma. The reality, of course, is that caffine invented Daruma. Nature invented the legend. That is the way it is, but our sacred books tell us otherwise.

People of the Lie

Pat Robertson is in the news recently because of an interview with Paula Zahn (sp) in which he said that, in an interview with the prez, he advised the prez to 'prepare the American People for the causulties which would result from a war in Iraq,' to which the prez replied that there would be no casualties in Iraq. The prez denies Pat's version of the meeting. Who are we to believe?

What we have here, folks, is a contest of liars. Both Bush and Robertson lie. Neither can be believed. I have been following both of these liars for years, and I can tell you that they are both compulsive liars. So are you.

You lie constantly. You lie to yourselves, your wives, your children, your brothers, your sisters, your mothers, your fathers, your neighbors... You lie. You lie as a Way of Life. You are 'a people of the lie.'

When Voltaire said that 'When the people undertake to reason, all is lost,' he must have had in mind the fact that the lie routinely undermines the geometry of sylogism.

Choose Carefully

I just turned off the VS, as the gassing seems to have stopped for the time being. Back to C-III.

You can play C-III at your leisure. You can play it for an hour a day or for twelve hours a day. If you have less than an hour a day to play then you should avoid C-III and consult a psychologist. But if you have at least an hour, then I have some recommendations for you: start small. Begin with a small world. I Play C-III as a war game. But C-III can be played in other ways. So when you initially configure the game you need to consider your gut predelictions. Do you like war? Do you like Peace? Can you tolerate both? Are you ready for either? Does your moral system discourage cheating against a silicon opponent? You need to answer those questions before you begin. If your answers are, yes, yes, yes, yes, no, then you need to disable the random number generator in C-III. C-III uses random numbers to create events in your game, and if you want to be able to change those events you need to disable Inexorable History, in favor of 'freedom.'

You can choose many configurations of worlds in C-III. I usually choose a normal world, but I have chosen many possible worlds so far. My advice would be to choose carefully the kind of world you will play in.

Civilization

Party time again, a little early. The 'rationalization' goes like this: 'Been playing too much C-III lately so I need a little break plus Saturday night tv is boring and don't forget we have another drunk scheduled for Halloween which is next Saturday so we better get this one in well before then and I should be sufficiently recovered by tomorrow afternoon to enjoy Sunday night tv plus play some more C-III.'

The major problem with C-III is that it requires a lot of repetitive movement, especially with the 'mouse hand' in the later stages. So if you play it eight hours a day like I do(!) your tendons get tender. The game could be improved in that respect. On the other hand your CNS loves the exercise. I began this particular game about four days ago and I have been playing it at least eight hours a day since then. I am Caesar of the Romans. I built my first city, Rome, in 4000bc. Since then I have built my empire up to a point where it is the world's most powerful nation. My ally and I (currently France) are presently in the process of destroying the English Empire together, although my forces are doing most of the conquering. I recently finished off the Aztecs, and enjoyed every minute of it, but I dislike making war on European Women, especially after the primitive period, because they play such beautiful music when I interact with them in matters of trade and diplomacy. The Germans also play the same beautiful music during those negotiations; however I have found it necessary to ban Germany from the games because the old bald-headed Jewish queer who harrasses me seems to have identified himself with the German representative, and stomps and pounds quite often whenever the old bald-headed, mustached, German leader becomes involved in the game. (I had to turn on the ventilation system just now because the old faggot began to gas me quite heavily. I should hasten to explain that after the photograph published in Chess life, the ugly old Jew grew a moustache, which caused him to resemble the old German somewhat. Hence, I think, the 'identification.' This is well-informed conjecture.)

Anyway, where were we? Ah yes: destroying the lovely English with big tits and great music. We will finish that unsavory job in the near future. Then we will go to war with the Iriquois, who have been harrassing us for a thousand years. Eventually we will be forced to deal with the Chinese and the French.

We destroyed the Russians early in the game. Without those early victories we would be toast now. We then formulated a coalition with the French, intimidating the Chinese for the time being. We had previously supported the English in their war with the Iriquois, giving them enough technology and gold to withstand the attack. We also supported the Japanese for a while, but when it became apparent they would lose, we turned tables on them and invaded them for their wine. Wine makes our people happy and more productive. Furthermore, our foothold in the old Japan is a great launching point for our eventual strike against the Iriquois.

God is Irrevelant

Which brings us back to the idea that God created a way, a method, of communication.

God does not speak English. We know that. Nor does God speak Arabic. In fact, God has no vocal cords. God speaks not - unless you are Pat Robertson who hears God speaking every day - speak at all. But Pat Robertson is a Religious-political con artist. God does not really speak to Pat Robertson.

It seems to follow logically that if you desire to speak with God you need to speak the language of God. What is that language? What is the language of God and how can you learn to speak that language? That is the question. I know the language of God, and I can tell you there is no language. God is way beyond language.

In fact, God is irrelevant.

Buy a Rat

I believe in rats, not gods. I have raised rats. Rats are warm furry creatures, loveable; whereas Gods are Cold Ideas. Gods are furthermore untouchable, whereas rats are. You can touch a rat. A rat will respond to your touch. God never responds to anything you do.

You can pray and pray, but God never responds.

So if you want to believe in something then you should go down to your local pet shop and buy a rat.

Carbon vs Silicon

Which brings us to 0940 pm. I am only half drunk, and my mind is open.

So shall we do a little more chess? Yess? Good Idea. I think that you and me can agree that chess is only interesting when it is conducted by biological machines (us). Chess played by Silicon Machines does not interest us. Silicon has yet to demonstrate emotion. On the other hand Carbon endlessly demonstrates emotion. Do you see that?

Life is nothing without emotion. Emotion is the essense of 'life.'

So I think that we can conclude that so far as we know, Carbon is the repository of Life.

If I can speculate further I would say that there are two basic elements in life: Carbon, which allows of Emotion, and Silicon, which allows of Logic. Not that Carbon does not allow of logic! Not at all. Carbon allows of both. But Silicon allows so far of only logic. And we know that for true life to exist there must be both logic and emotion. So we wonder about Silicon. Will Silicon eventually be shown to support Emotion? We wonder.

If I were a betting man I would bet that Silicon will eventually be shown to be the equal of Carbon. This is the kind of stuff I think about when I'm drunk.

If You Follow My Advice You Will Not Be Disappointed

Since I'm on the subject of LSD I suddenly find myself thinking about how a really political person would experience the November election on Acid. It seems to me that this would be the Ultimate Political Experience. I say this because Acid is miraculous! I once watched an episode of Love Boat on Acid. Although it was the usual crap, LoveBoatspeaking, I was absolutely stunned by the sheer beauty and the glorious logic of what was unfolding before me on the tv set! In other words LSD turned the mundane into magic. LSD had hijacked my brain temporarilly, and my cortex and I had enjoyed a thoroughly entertaining experience together.

So I would recommend Acid to you politicos on the night of 11-02-04.

I would also recommend Acid to you Jews and you Christians and you Muslims. I recommend you do it on your most glorious holy days. If you follow my advice you will not be disappointed.

Strangen Things Up

Me and George Carlin might even be affected by that result, although that is unlikely. But we will be very interested. Me and George Carlin will follow your collective folly with with 'bated breath on Election Day. I have no doubt that we will be hungover. Carlin might be both hungover and potted out. I suspect he will be both, while I will be only hungover. Other fellow travelers will be Tripped Out. I envy those folks who are in a position to do Acid (LSD) on the night of November Two. I envy them! I only hope for them that they have a little Pot to 'strangen things up' as November three dawns. I have done Acid at least twenty five times and I can tell you that there comes a time during an Acid trip when you can use a little Pot to Strangen Things Up.

You don't want to leave that glorious world. You recognize that your brain is effectively fighting off the drug effects and you are not quite ready to go along with Nature just yet and so you want to 'strangen things up' with a little Pot. So you smoke a bowl and you are reintroduced to astonishment for a little while more.

Me and George Carlin

As you know I don't plan to vote in the upcoming elections because I am 'way past voting age.' Another reason is that I am totally ignorant of local (Colorado) politics. I don't watch the local evening news. I have no idea of what is going on in Colorado. I get a smattering of it from time to time as I change channels on my tv set but I don't follow it at all. So if I were to vote I would be reduced to voting a straight Democratic ticket out of sheer ignorance. That might not be bad.

My interest is 'big picture.' Details do not interest me. I focus on the largest possible issues. I only want to know the answers to the very largest questions: Is there a God? Do Heaven and Hell really exist? These are the kinds of questions which my emotional brain loves to consider. Small questions do not interest my emotional brain. And of course my cortex rushes to oblige! They know each other after all these years, and as my emotional brain proposes questions my cortex rushes to answer those questions. You should know that my cortex is only a tool. My Emotional Brain proposes and my cortex disposes. That is the way it is with me. My Emotional Brain asks the questions and my cortex answers. You should know furthermore that my Emotional Brain trusts my cortex absolutely, and that these two have arrived at this desired relationship only after many years of mutual scientific experimentation.

So we (both of us brains) found a kindred soul this week in George Carlin, who also does not plan to vote. Carlin has 'resigned' from the Eternal Politic. Me and George Carlin will not vote, But we will observe you while you vote. Furthermore we will be very interested in the result.

Old April Fool

When I first saw the article I laughed out loud: 'There is no old fool like old April fool!' And if you want to compare this particular article with others of the genre then I encourage you to do so. I think you will arrive at the same conclusion I did: el fisho bought that page with good money, from the good folks at Chess Life. I will quote the last paragraph for your edification:

"If I lose, it doesn't bother my ego. I know where my ego is; I know where my head is; and I know my role in society. At least I have a fight, at least it was daring."

I allowed my subscription to Chess Life to lapse after '98. But I have followed the major events in chess as they appeared in the News Media, including Kasparov's encounters with IBM. In recent years I have found refuge in video games. There are no human opponents with which I might interact on the chess board, and my computer opponents play an ethereal game on levels far above me. I have tried to play chess with online opponents but el fisho's control of the phone lines effectively squished that idea. So nowadays I play stuff like C-III, Ghost Recon, and Half Life.

Full Faggot Indignation

I finally finished playing over my stash of chess games. The notes on the backs of the scoresheets suddenly disappeared around the middle of June, '95, although the games continued until November, '97. So I take it that I ran out of Ganja in the middle of June 1995. Lessee... that would indicate that that big bag of fluffy dried Ganja leaves from those three closet-grown plants lasted me about eight years. And I can tell by the writing that I wrote many of those score sheet commentaries not only drunk but wasted on Pot. Apparently, after I ran out of Ganja I lost interest in chess commentary. But my drog from those years, which is still on floppy disks, would tell us the real story. Maybe someday I will try to resurrect them. Hmm.

I must have dropped out of Denver chess near the end of '97. This fits with the theory that el fisho reentered Denver chess soon after. In any case, in the April 1998 issue of Chess Life el fisho suddenly appeared on page 65. Are you curious?

Do you have a slight curiosity about el fisho? If you do have such a curiosity then you should find a copy of page 65 of the April 1998 Chess Life. The article features a color photograph of the famous fish himself in full faggot indignation.

Al Gore Speaks

And God is one of my students! You are all in good company. I think.

I stumbled on an interesting political speech by Al Gore, yesterday. It was on C-SPAN. I watched and I listened to that speech in awe. It was the most brilliant political speech I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. I looked for it again later and recorded it on my TiVo. It was a speech given by a 'recovering politician.' That is to say, it was a speech which contained quite a lot of Truth. Truth is rare in politics nowadays. You can't find much of it coming from political sources. I would go so far as to say that Al Gore's speech was astonishing.

You should watch that speech. Consider it your homework assignment.

I Talk, You Listen.

Last contact for the time being, folks. I am down to my last swallow. And I just swallowed it. This leaves you and me in a dubious situation, me drunk and you sober: How shall we work together to make Community Sense? But another question vis our relationship raises its head: whence comes the idea of 'community? Who are you and who am I? I will answer that question.

I am your teacher. I talk, you listen.

Japanese Enchilladas

In the meantime, I know that you love me. I don't need to be told incessantly. I know. So my advice to you is to be more natural. Remember me from time to time if you must, but be subtle. We will both be more comfortable.

Looks like this is my last drink (only whiskey tonight - a pint). When I finish this glass I will naturally look to supper, Japanese Enchilladas. Kootch cooked up a bunch of it last night. Maybe someday I will reveal her recipe. You will be the first to know.

Rap Sucks

And Margaritaville deserves its place in the Hall of Eternal Beauty. Thumbs down on Rap. Rap is ugly. I say this with no apology whatsoever to Rapophiles. Neither Beethoven nor Mozart would have understood Rap. In fact they both would have been revulsed by Rap. Suck on that, folks.

Which brings us to the question of whether Rap could ever be 'resurrected' into the realm of 'actual music.' I think that this endeavor could possibly succeed in the long run if talented folks would only immerse themselves in that odious culture with intention to redeem Rap. It is possible, in my opinion, to redeem Rap in the same way Omar Fitzgerald redeemed Muslim religion. But I see no other possible approach to the question.

Eternal Beauty

As I sit here listening to BPC#1 I remember Jimmy Buffet and Margaritaville. What a song! Nothing like Margaritaville appeared in Old Europe during the times of Beethoven and Mozart. I wondered how Beethoven and Mozart would have treated the subject of boozing, and I especially wondered how Beethoven and Mozart would have treated the glorious tune we all love, if only they could have had a peek into the future. How would an operatic interlude by Beethoven or Mozart treated the tune and theme from Margaritaville? Could it have been the theme for a piano concerto movement? A symphony? I wondered. That's the kind of stuff I wonder about when I'm sober, which is most of the time.

I just put on Mozart's PC#21. Heard it on KVOD today as I drove to my HMO for a flu shot. 'Elvira Madigan,' whatever that means, is a ripoff, a cheapening, of MPC#21-2. I wish I had never heard it. Which brings us back to the idea of B and M ripping off Jimmy Buffet. Would we REALLY appreciate such a rip-off? I wonder.

Furthermore I wonder whether Jimmy Buffet could even have APPEARED before Beethoven and Mozart. Does Jimmy Buffet stand on the musical sholders of Mozart? Beethoven? Did we have to go through M and B to get to JB? Could well be... But where does this theory leave us in regard to Rap? Rap is crap. Most of us see that. Is Rap, devolution? And if so, does the current popularity of Rap tell us something about - not only cultural evolution - but Cultural Evolution? I think so. And if I am correct, then does Cultural Evolution tell us anything about Evolution in General? Maybe. But the overwhelming evidence suggests that Evolution - while it may from time to time regress - tends toward Beauty. Eternal Beauty.

Presidential Pandering

I've seen some of the reviews of round two of the presidential debates. Also watched most of the vp debate, which was a boring draw. In the few exchanges between Bush and Kerry that I have seen thus far it seems the prez is in better form than last time but still far from 'presidential.' On the other hand Kerry seems 'presidential.' Bush seems 'sophomoric,' simple-minded. Possibly this is Bush's way of pandering to the Idiot Class, which is a huge constituency; but if this sophomorism is actually genuine then we are in real trouble, folks: we need to elect a new president.

Correction: YOU need to elect a new president. I will go along with whatever you decide. I report, you decide.

Simmering Fish

I'm back. TGIS. This blog seems to be morphing into a public drog. It appears that the fish fry is over. Or perhaps this fish fry is now on simmer. Yes. That must be it. We have seared this fish on both sides and we have turned down the heat to simmer. Yep, that must be it. We are gonna slow-simmer this big fish in the background while we enjoy the evening.

In less metaphorical terms, I really don't like to remember the sad, senseless, stupid things that have happened to me and my family over the years because of the insane obsession of one old pathetic Jewish queer. I don't like to remember it, much less write about it.

As I write this I'm listening to Beethoven as usual, and it just occurred to me that maybe the problem is that I am attempting the impossible: writing about UGLY while listening to Beauty. I think that this must be part of the problem. Maybe I should put on some Rap. Rap goes well with the smell of frying fish. I wonder what Beethoven and Mozart would have thought of Rap.

I Love Beer

I am now on the last beer. Time for me to sign off. Time for me to indulge myself in tv opera. By that I mean time for me to play my favorite operas. By 'last beer' I mean 'last beer at hand.' I know that out in the vast world around me there is a multitude of beer, and for that I am thankful.

After all, I am one of The Gods... who love beer.

God is an Alcoholic

And had you been that particular beer you would now be history. You would be re-incarnated in another beer which I have only just now retreived from the fridge. As I took my first sip you would have been delighted, because you would have been introduced to a new and glorious world.

But you would have noticed that when I took another sip you were diminished. Yet another sip would have diminished you further. You would no doubt be curious as to whether or not this apparent trend would continue to the inevitable end. You would ask your friends the obvious question: 'Will I not live forever?'

And your friends would reply that you would not, but that you were part of a huge quantity of beer that was loved by the Gods, and that if you could think of yourself in a certain manner you would indeed live forever, or at least as long as The Gods eschewed Alcaholics Anonomous.

Fuel of The Gods

Time for me to admit that I am doing a little booze tonight as I create this blog. It seems to me that a little booze is a good thing. My brain welcomes a little assistance from time to time. Booze is chemistry, and my brain swims in chemistry most all of the time if not all of the time. My brain and I have nothing against chemistry. We love chemistry. In fact, our only mutual regret tonight is that one glorious chemical - tetra-hydra-cannabinol - is missing from this little seance.

But my brain and I do not dwell on negative ideas. We create our reality with the rescources at hand. We work together, my brain and I, as we go on and on, second by second, minute by minute... doing our life together. We see no end to this dance. We see it as our endless duty. My brain and I see no possible escape from this endless dance of duty. We can imagine no end. And as my brain and I type this glorious stuff we suddenly realize - together - that we are out of beer.

Standby...

We are back, my brain and I, and our most recent beer. If you were to put yourselves into the place of this most recent beer you would be ecstatic. You would have found yourselves in the presense of Beauty. You would have been more than willing to contribute a small part of your selves to the mysterious chemical factory in which you had found your sudden consciousness.

But as time passed on and you found your very being more and more consumed you might have second thoughts. You might request an explanation from my brain and I. We would comply with your very understandable request for existential clarification. We would explain to you that you were the 'fuel of The God' and that you were doing your Cosmic Duty. You would be very pleased. You would die happy.

We are the fuel of The Gods, you and me.

Twinky Diplomacy

In the context of the previous scenerio I am in the mood to compose a meeting with Saddam. Here is the scenerio: An American envoy is sent to Saddam's cell to break the good news to the future president. It will be a succinct first interview designed to get Saddam out of his defeated religious mood and into a more creative upbeat mode. It would be the first of many secret meetings between Saddam and our representative in the State Department:
----------
ME: Do you know why I am here?
SH: You are here to torture me.
ME: Guess again.
SH: You are here to give me a twinky.
ME: (producing a Twinky from my jacket pocket) Right! You are a very perceptive man, Saddam (I hand him the twinky).
SH: You expect me to eat your poison?
ME: Would you prefer I ate it? (reaching for the Twinky)
SH: (nibbling) So why are you really here?
ME: I am here to offer you a deal. We want you to be Our Puppet.
SH: Like 'on a string?'
ME: Exactly!
SH: (warming up considerably) Your rhetoric is beginning to sound somewhat interesting.
----------
I imagine that that is roughly the way it would go between me and Saddam. I would explain that what we had here was an opportunity - a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity - to consolidate the Western cultural interest with the Eastern cultural interest in such a way as to avoid interminal religious war, while at the same time allowing Saddam to avoid for the time being the wrath of Allah. I am convinced it would work.

Blessed Secularism

As I was walking around the maul today I was thinking about how to put the lid back on Pandora's Box; in whiskey terms, how to put the cork back into the bottle. It seemed to me that maybe we ought to simply replace the cork, so to say. It seemed to me that we ought to simply reinstate Saddam as President of Iraq. Saddam would then resurrect the Bathist party and the army, and clamp down on the emerging Iranian-Shiite-Sharian-Ludicrousity now threatening the people. It seemed to me that Saddam - good ole Saddam - would be able to restore Blessed Secularism to that beleagered religious nation, and with it, order and security, if not freedom.

I concocted a scenerio where the powers that be - whomever those powers might be after the November election - made the secret decision to put the lid back on the Iraqi box; the cork back into the Iraqi bottle. I came up with a plan to let Saddam 'escape' after the Iraqis had elected an interm government which would permit us to 'escape' from Iraq. Once we were all out, Saddam could emerge, so to say, and retake Iraq for us. FOR US! Note that. My plan was to make Saddam a Judeo-American puppet. A fundamentally important part of that plan was the secret agreement that Iraqi oil would flow freely into American tankers. Saddam would scratch our back, so to say, and we would scratch back. I concocted the best possible brew given the available ingredients. It was a fantasy of course. But as I was thinking about my grandiose idea during my maul walk and during my subsequent shopping trip I must have had a smile on my face because I noticed a few people smiling back.

Out of Check Into Check

Back to chess. As I recall, we were discussing illegal moves. That is to say, my opponent would make an illegal move (leaving his king in check) and I would answer his illegal move with one of my own: capturing his king. One good illegal move deserves another. Tit for tat. I thought we were done with illegal moves but I came upon the rematch game, where my previous opponent again made an illegal move, this time moving his king out of check into check. I know you are just dying to see that game so here it is. Same opening, same color as in the previous game:
1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e6 3.Nf3 c5 4.d5 ed5 5.cd5 d6 6.Nc3 g6 7.e4 Bg7 8.Qc2 O-O 9.Bg5 h6 10.Bh4 g5 11.Bg3 Nh5 12.Be2 Ng3 13.hg3 Re8 14.O-O Qe7 15.Nh2 Nd7 16.Ng4 Ne5 17.Ne3 g4 18.f4 gf3 e.p. 19.gf3 Bh3 20.Ng2 a6 21.Kf2 b5 22.Rh1 Bg2 23.Kg2 Rac8 24.Nd1 f5 25.Ne3 fe5 26.Nf5 ef3+ 27.Bf3 Qf6 28.Raf1 Nc4 29.Bg4 Qb2 30.Qb2 Nb2 31.Nh6+ Bh6 32.Bc8 Kg7 33.Be6 Re7 34.Rh4 Nc4 35.Rg4+ Kh7 36.Re4 Ne3+ 37.Re3 Be3 38.Re1 Bg5 39.Rh1+ Kg7 40.Kf3 c4 41.Kg4 Bh6 42.Kf5 Re8 43.Bd7 Re5+ (At this point he played the illegal 44.Kf4. Since we were not in blitz mode I did not capture his king with my bishop. Instead I called the TD over and he added two minutes to my clock.) 44.Kg4 Rd5 45.Bc6 Re5 46.Rd1 c3 47.Rd6 c2 48.Rc7+ Kf6 (0-1) White had 3 minutes remaining at the end; Black, 18 minutes.

Pandora's Box

Well folks, I finally got around to watching the presidential debate. I'm not through it yet, but it is already clear that Kerry won it. The Prez comes across as an out-of-touch, in-denial, bungler, who is just beginning to realize that he is in w-a-a-a-a-y over his head. Words do not come readily, pronounciation is marginal, usage is also marginal. 'Nuculer?' 'Fighting vociferously?' Is English his second language or his third language? What is his first language? Yiddish? If I were a young man I would shudder to think that this guy was going to get another four years. I would actually go out there and vote! Whew. But I'm way past voting age.

I am amused by the pet phrases being bandied about by both contestants: 'Weapons of mass destruction;' 'world safer without Saddam Hussein...' These are meaningless phrases! These are buzz-phrases designed to hoodwink the hoodwinkable. Clearly the world was safer WITH Saddam Hussein. Saddam was the lid on Pandora's Box. Bush removed the lid from Pandora's box and locked it up in a jail. The Box will soon try that lid for excessive liddiness. Pandora will no doubt be pleased. And in the midst all the evils swarming out of Pandora's Box we will try to fashion a new lid called Democracy. Iraqian Democracy. Hmm. Has a certain ring to it, sort of like a lead bell. Thunk.

I like Kerry's plan to attack the monster in the closet: unsecured nuclear material, or 'nuclear proliferation.' But I must have missed the part about that other monster in the closet, Israel. There was no discussion of a timetable for making Israel the 51st state, for example. Nor did President Bush make any reference to the Second Coming of Jesus Christ during his Second Term. It seems to me these are important aspects of foreign policy which should at least have received an honorable mention. But I wasn't asking the questions.

The debate ended suddenly while Kootch and I were discussing chips and dips.