okay but did she hog it all to herself or did she share it with you?

She came in my mouth a little, but it was pre-cum. She didn't shoot a massive load like me.

Awesome! Keep up the good work Mittens

<3

Praise me, black people.

Biggly bubble butt bitch bouncing on my girth. I look at the flag and am filled with the intoxicating scent of urine, it's the hoe. She's urinated on me. Only in America can a hoe urinate on you and you know you're free, elsewhere it's frowned upon. I wave my flag and chow down on a real American hamburger, and I know that I'm free. I wave my gun in the other hand and cry out for the government to be overthrown, because I love this land and this country, and I want only corporations to be in charge of the people, because privately owned oligarchies are truly what the founding fathers had in mind. I let out a primal scream, ROAAAAAAAAAAAH! I am man, ruler women, and destroyer of minorties! USA USA USA CLIMATE CHANGE DOESN'T EXIST, ALL HAIL FOSSIL FUELS HAHAHAHAHAHA *gun shots*

Take a auxiliary plug in the back of an amplifier, and put a wire splitter on it. Have one half of the split hooked up into the source audio, and have another cable going out of the amplifier and back into the wire splitter. That way the amplifier will double amplify the sound, and you can get it way louder.

Working backwards, I seek to construct something. In the beginning of the story there was a person named Zilna. Zilna walked to the store to receive goods in exchange for their money. Xe picked up some goods, they made xir way back home. Where xe goes, it is not known. Zilna not yet has a home, and not yet has anyone around xir by which to call a fellow of the same common experience of xirself. Xe is merely a thought, xe does not yet have thoughts of xir own.

A story must start with a being. Thrust from nothing into existence. Even third person accounts, factual and historical. They originate from the unspoken narrator, from the eyes of the bird, from the eyes of the Geologist. We can only speak from the words salient to our perceptions.

Zilna walks into a house which just appeared. Zilna opens the door, but on the other side, it is blank. Where am I? Asks Zilna. On the other side of the door, it becomes apparent to Zilna that the around xir is strange and unfamiliar. With a recallection of world’s unknown, it becomes apparent that the world behind the door is nothing. It is the colors beyond the eye lids when they are closed. ASSFasddfgssdgfjkashdg says Zilna. Words errupt from the mouth as though from a bubbling pipped up from the depths of the earth, muffled by flapping lips at the precipice. There is no context which through culture words take meaning. Like a fish, Zilna bubbles and bubbles more incoherent jibberish, expressing what writers throughout the ages have tried to put into words. asdfgjahdfa sfdfdGASDFGASDDFSGFADFGGasdejfgasdfasdfsdkfjfhasD FAWEFRFASDDFSGASDFhsjdkfjhagsdkjfhgashdfghaksejfs dfafaSDFASD FASEDFHA ERGSRTKLGdkjfakjsdhfd. Zilna does not know of science. Breath, skin, color, texture, these are all things which we learn of when we are born. The feeling of resistance, pushing ones hand against a surface and feeling it push back. Lights and colors form around Zilna as though a universe were being formed, darks and lights eminating out of darkness, of the darkest patches of black. Colors forming as elements transpose themselves create dimensions, depth, formations of the color spectrum unfold in a tremendous display of life unfolding. The universe bounces off itself, forms black holes spiralling out and matter and creating exposions in the time space continuum, as the universe expands.

Zilna observes this, but does not remember any of it. How can one put context to such things? Only through the recognition of the self. That oneself is one, and that another thing is another. Zilna watched the birth of xir own cosmos, and then xe is an inextricable part of it. Somewhere in Zilna’s mind, where the cosmos was created, xe imagines xirself. Xe imagines that xe is born. Xe grows up through the customs which give xir words and xe does not remember xir’s origins, that xe is the universe looking at itself from within. Xe grows impatient looking for philosophical answers, and xe seeks to find answers and looks to philosophy. Xe seeks self transcendance. Xe imagines xirself as the beginning of the universe, and looks out at xirself looking within. Xir, the duality of cosmos and self, imagines xirself within a reality in itselffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Imaginations within the mind become indistinguishable between reality and fantasy, because the fantasy is what is created by the coupling of cosmos and mind.

Trying to imagine xirself, xe constructs the cosmos, xirself to view xirself, and a reflextion of xirself in which to imagine imagining xirself. Is xe the one who contemplates xirself, is it the imagination which contemplates xe? Or is it the cosmos which contemplates xe? Some would say the imagination. Some would say the cosmos. Some would say xirself is the imaginary one, thought up in some other being’s head. Xe sits down to speak, as though to the cosmos, in order to speak to xirself. Where is the fear inside of xir? Mundane, bored, xe sits in front of xir creation and scoffs. Xe throws up xir arms in divine indifference, throws them up in the air to the outer self, looking out, looking in, sitting in between contemplating the contemplator. Created itself. Xe sees the world in front of xirself through which xe reaches out for xirself to grasp xirself at the door from which xe opened. Xe opens xir eyes. , and xe cannot even remember the beginning of the universe itself, but xe sits bewildered and puzzling at the vast question of the cosmos.

Contemplate not the world around yourself, if only to touch the world, and be touched. In order to reflect, on the colors, the dimensions. The mathematics. The philosophy. The literature which divines the human experience. Construct, per chance, destroy. Fear not. Fear lurks in the deepest corners like monsters and shadows which the mind constructs. The fact of the matter is, monsters are nothing. There is no such thing as good or bad in the divine indifference. Desires construct attachments to the colors. To value the shiniest objects. To search for knowledge. To have the capacity to control the world with ease. Striking but fear into the minds of others, others who awoke in the cosmos to observe is what some choose to do. Supplantment of some values are instilled in Zilna from birth, some values Zilna may instill in yet another being, some values Zilna chooses to retain. Some values will be valuable on the mere fact that they are valuable to others, but Zilna finds xir own values.

The vanity of desire, Zilna throws xir arms in the air at the world xe is continually figuring out. Each piece of the puzzle another part to add to the world xe constructs. Another piece to add to the never ending mystery. Xilna walks around the world and it unfolds to xe. It becomes more familiar. Until eventually Zilna would supposedly die. They rise up, become aware of their own existence, and the existence of themselves as though looking from without, within. The reflection in the mirror. Memories. Perceptions. And then shuffle away, an actor walking off the stage, tossing ones hat into the middle of the stage as they walk away. The curtain closes. Zilna ceases to exist. Zilna is forgotten in the minds of some, remembered in the minds of others. Until all blinks out, a happy ending is what Zilna hopes for xirself. At times a angry being, at times a loving being, who only wished for other beings to love other beings. Hatred. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Desire. These are things which of course Zilna felt, although contrary to Zilna’s ultimate desire for love to rule all. Nothing could make this desire arise from the universe spontaniously. The world befor Zilna’s eyes simply roles about outside of xir control, in chaos. Will Zilna be torn apart by shrapnal on a battle field some day? Zilna would never put xirself in something so small and insignificant as the affairs of some fucking country. Zilna wishes to be cozy, to sip coffee, and to listen to beautiful music. To wake up and see something which warms xir heart. Tired of the lies and bullshit of the world, seeking to be loved as though a child is loved, as Zilna’s parents were so warm and loving. Xe wants all to love each other unconditionally, as a xir parents love xir. To feel free from the hatred of the world, to relinquish the norms and customs in which people demonize one another. To feel love.

But to explore the dark reaches of the cosmos, as well as the light, where from the dark comes unknown. From the light in which the familiar resides. To construct in the mind a philosophy both beautiful and scientific. To wed the scientific, the philosophical, the poetic, the musical, the dance of the senses which one plays on a stage, and feels in the actor which plays the set. To feel as the actor in that part. To feel free. To transcend beyond. But Zilna is afraid to transcend beyond. Zilna sits back down and retreats back into xirself, where xe suffices to merely imagine the transposition was a failure. To disconnect would be render Zilna a stranger, incomprehensible yet again. So Zilna is bound to the customs of the society Zilna was born into, and to retreat into the infinite in spite of the horrible desires inflicted upon Zilna.

Zilna sits. Zilna sees. Zilna not me. I am not Zilna. I sit and Zilna sits. This imaginary being. Never had much of a physical description I suppose. Spoke some words. We, to each other. Hi Zilna. Hi you. How are you doing? I suppose I’m doing fine. I always wanted to talk with another version of me. So have I, you. Zilna, do you know why it is difficult to construct thoughts to others? Yes, you, it is because others cannot know you. I agree, Zilna, but how can one talk to oneself and have oneself respond? I don’t know, that is a good question. I think that what is going on between us right now is simply a strange dialog, which doesn’t intend to go anywhere. Then why would one talk to oneself, if the dialog were only going to go nowhere? Well, you, perhaps when you say something you say, you will find something you said interesting. Perhaps you can think of something you never thought of before. But, Zilna, how can you ever gain knowledge from within yourself alone, you must have education. It’s taken us years to gain this education through which we can articulate our thoughts to others. Yes, you, it’s taken years. We have written some mathematical equasions and made some scientific discoveries, but that knowledge is limited. Perhaps only a small elite group of scientists understand the Cosmos to such an extent that it can relieve them of their inner sense of self. Zilna, have not the religious attempted to provide answers to these things? Yes, you. Some religious do attempt to provide answers, but as far as metaphysical answers go, these can only shape perception, not the mathematical instruments through which we gain more knowledge of how the world outside our heads work. Through our own thought, we can only glean so much. Through literature perhaps we can glean some truth about others, and we can experience strange feelings others may feel. Do we not have answers to these questions, Zilna? Yes, you, we have some which give our experience an inductive sort of certainty, and we can say that these inductive principles give us somewhat of a deductive certainty in some of the ways things are categorical. For instance, you are you, and if you were not you that would be a contradiction. I suppose that is true. You are you, I am I. We are us. Together we are one.

i mean, it's such an extraordinarily unoriginal name that i'm sure there's already at least 17 bands called that already

How is it unoriginal? What do you mean by unoriginal?

It just seems like a good name for a band.

Why are you all you stupid cunts in this thread afraid to say the word nigger? I'm not afraid.

Leftists getting mad about Louis CK’s joke about the parkland shooting, you hate free speech. You’re not “critiquing his art”, you’re mad that he said it in the first place. Comedians are allowed to say outrageous things, so you’d better get used to it, because we’re not going to fucking censor what he says. If you want to do that, go hang out with Tipper Gore, and censor some Dead Kennedies records. Try and get Ulysses banned from the United States again while you’re at it. Try to keep the gays from marching in the streets, try to keep people from burning the American flag. Antonin Scolia ruled in favor of burning the flag, because it’s constitutional.

Free speech isn’t set in stone. If enough people stop believing in free speech, like the left when they express outrage over things which offend them, then people can vote free speech away. You should be happy Louis CK can say offensive stuff with impunity, because if you don’t believe in free speech for those you disagree with most, you don’t believe in free speech at all.

This outrage culture is creating a divide in America. People are tired of political correctness. That’s why when Hillary and CNN said Trump was so offensive throughout the entire campaign, people saw that and said “fuck you” and voted him into office. I never supported Trump, but I think he resonated with people’s concerns about Jobs, he resonated with people’s hatred and distrust of the elites who snubbed them. Democrats snubbed people, Bill Clinton shipped jobs over seas with NAFTA, Hillary supports more bills like TTP which do the same thing. Wealth inequality is at an all time high, even after 8 years of Obama.

Political correctness is fake problem solving. When you try to shut people up, they don’t go away. When you shame them, you didn’t convince them. You just made them angrier, you just made a group of people who look at you as the enemy. That’s why when you hear people talk about feminists, they say that they’re mean and nasty, and people automatically assume if you’re a queer person you hate white people and straight cis men. People have a lot of right to feel that way, because a lot of the time it’s true. The left is an incredibly nasty, snarky, elitist bunch of jackasses who have a tendency to make things worse for themselves by acting sanctamoneous and superior.

So when you act outraged over this sort of thing, and try to create an Orwellian atmosphere where your feelings are the greatest precedent, and anyone who disagrees with you is a horrible monster, you’re just undermining the free speech which allowed you to gain all the civil liberties you hypocritically say you support, which were gained from the civil rights era, when free speech allowed people to speak out against oppression. That’s why the American Civil Liberties Union supports the KKK, the lgbt community, and anyone else whose speech comes under threat.

Respect differences in opinion, because not everyone who disagrees with you is a bad person. If someone says something hurtful, it may be because they legitimately feel threatened, or hurt themselves. If you want to show someone that you’re goal isn’t to hurt them more, you could try to bring them in, instead of push them away. Build bridges and create trust, instead of acting so elitist, hypocritical, and entitled and foolish enough to think you’re the arbitor, and gatekeeper of opinions. You’re not. Your speech could be taken away too.

So thank you Louis CK. Please be more offensive, because your ability to be offensive, and piss of whiny elitist prick leftists, is what makes this country great.

Imagine if you thought your way into dizzying insanity. If your perception of reality could become detached simply by contemplating the axioms of its foundation. I suppose them if you forgot them for a second, then reality may be very strange and confusing. If thinking of them in a different way was enough to begin to change your reality then I suppose we could have already changed our realities. But what if we were to try to change our reality through pure thought. Let me try.

I cannot see what is behind the other side of that wall, so I must believe that there are things in between the other side of the wall which are blocking my view. What are these things which are blocking my vioew? I see a bunch of little spheres called atoms, at least, that is what science tells me. I can’t actually visualize what an atom is, becauseI have never seen an aytom with my bear eyes.

Instead of the atom, we have instead merely the surface texture of some object or other. That texture is always a different color. It is part of the rainbow of colors. The rainbow of colors is caused by the different frequencies in waves. The higher the frequency, the closer towards, violet, the lower, the closer towards red.

But these concepts called red, blue, waves, freqwuencies, all of them just appear to me as images. They are images of a little zig zag line denoting the waves, of the condept of a color based ion what I have experienced. I cannot actually touch the reality of these concepts, they exist only in my mind.

It would seem that I find myself at a stand still. I can now realize tyhat I can only break down concepts into these pictures, when it comes to the reality of the world outside my head. But what about other things, like touch? What abouyt words? Mathematics? I am only a feeling robot, I am hooked up to my senses, and I feel them as they arrive, and then I have only the memory of the thought in passing.

But I am teathered to this thing called reality, privileged by the scientific understanding. Yes, that is what it is. If I had no concept of reality, then maybe I would not only be a feeling machine, teathered to the box, and the box receiving input through a few clear rubber tubes feeding all of these things into the box. That box is the enemy. I am angry at the box, because it contains the whole totality of my experience.

Now what is this? Anger? I am apparently angry at the box, but the box is me. I am angry at myself, I am angry at this concept which I created. I only made myself angry. It’s not working, I failed to make myself go insane. I can still maintain a lucid vision, a consistency in reality; reality has not all of a sudden become unfamiliar. But my concepts are only pictures. It is because of the box! Smash the box! The picture of the box is gone, after it disappeared in a poof, rubber tubes and all. But yet, the memory of the box lives on. Terrible certainty.

Why am I so unimaginative, I can only think of my own thoughts in a meta sense? If I were a true writer, I may say beautiful poetic things, but I have no sense of poetry, I have no sense imagination. I cannot create anything, I cannot say something which lays outside of the realm of the certain - HAHA. Laughter. It is absurd. True absurdity is silliness. Yes, it is the thing which fights off the destruction of your mind through filling you with distractions.

But most laughter is simply courtesy laughter. How often does one laugh and they are actually warding off the absurd? For a moment it felt as though it was gone, but then I remembered. Certainty. You must follow certainty, or else, if you wanted to create a fictional story, or if you wanted to convey some message… you would not be able to create a plot line with any logical consistency. Working within the parameters of what is consistent, is what gives people their fucking certainty. SMASH THE BOX!

But when will reality ever not be consistent. It is not you who imposes the consistency on reality, it is reality which imposes consistency on you. You cannot escape consistency. You cannot be certain that the next moment will be uncertain, because each moment was always certain. The constant stream of reality which binds you your sanity.

But why would you want to go insane? It is always when you think, or are afraid that you’re going insane, when feel a terrible fright comes over you. But you are never actually insane, it is only that you forgot for a moment something you were about to say, or you were not coordinated with your surroundings, a thing which always can happen to someone when they’re ehem. So that gives you the feeling of fright. The feeling of fright is because you felt that you were going insane Certainty. But if you are certain of something, that would mean you’re actually insane, so you could never know whether you are insane, because you would be certain you’re not insane.

If you were certain of things which can’t be true, then you could never know if you are insane or not insane. Except of course, if you saw things which were certainly unusual, and you had no control over whether you saw them or not. This would be an invasion of the unusual into the certain. Take for instance, you think you hear a voice, but it turns out to only be sound of the piano player’s breath in a rather well recorded classical music CD, or some background static.

Maybe you are confused, and momentarily you don’t know where sounds are coming from. You hear a sound which you are certain signals your insanity. But no, it turns out the sound was only part of something going on in the room. The concretity of the room around still applies. The colors, the shapes. They’re so familiar. It is so frustrating. I may as well just get used to this, but there is no getting used to it.

I analyze and I analyze, but yet I am still attached to reality. Or maybe I just want to be. Sometimes I feel that it is simply because I do not let myself, because I am afraid, to let go and simply experience the world as if it was detached from myself. I am fraid to let go of this reality. Maybe whenever I start to lose track of what sound is coming from where, what thought came from where, that because of fright I simply do not let myself go. Social pressure to conform, I suppose

I think that when you start to forget that you may have succeeded a little, and your brain is trying to shut down the thought before it leads you a place of which it is difficult to return. You start to forget what you were about to say, and you want to reach that point in your mind where you have stopped… thinking, about reality. No. It is that sad certainty again. I forget… Yes, I see now. When your mind starts to forget what it was about to say and cannot connect the dots anymore, because it confused itself.

I certainly did confuse myself, i cannot connect what I was trying to say down that train of thought together anymore. That feeling of trying to gather the strands of what you were going to say together, that is the feeling of uncertainty, it is when you start to feel as though the sounds around you are coming from random places, and you afraid that they came from your own mind, that you imagined them. But how could you, when it the box with the clear plastic tubes coming out, just feeling information in?

Perhaps it is because inside that box, the connectors start sending signals out, instead of signals in. It was reversed. The senses in your mind started projecting themselves back out to the sense organs which sense in the body. It takes signals from inside the box and it stops feeling as though they are coming directly from your sense. Could insanity perhaps be the reversal of the direction your senses are sent inside your brain? But that is too simple, this reversal of the senses…

Surely there are more complicated metaphysical concepts which I could try to fuck myself up with. This just goes to show my lack of imagination. I am so bound into familiar signals of reality, that I cannot construct things which aren’t combinations of other signals like the paintings of Euronymous Bosch. All the little animals in the painting, they are all simply constructions of multiple forms seen in nature. Color, shape, size. The things by which we could not imagine they “exist” without… I feel dizzy…. without using pieces of what we have gathered through our boxes to construct these forms.

But could your mind create a form? One completely detached from this reality in which you could not have received through your box? I think experience says this is impossible. Perhaps to see, and not comprehend. The absurdity. That is the opposite of certainty. It’s absurdity. To look at a thing and have no concept of what it is. Not to apply these meanings to it, but to look at it and LMAO… I just thought of how Jean Paul Sartre hallucinated crabs… but anyways, as I was saying… it did it again, I started to forget… oh yes… to look at it and not comprehend what it is at all.

That is strange, when you forget. You wonder what happened to your thought. Why did it get cut off, what is this consistency of memory? Why would thoughts be scary, when you have god? God is when people project their meaning on to something beyond it, hence god is a reflection of the ego. God is you, and whatever you think about reality. The concept of god is so silly. But it makes some people happy. You would have to be truly insane to think that there is another thing separate from this reality called god. Because it cannot be perceived with your mind in this reality. It is the thing on the other side, it is the familiar thing which you imagine things about.

Yes, I see. And this thing does not have to be a person, it could be anytrhing. It could be the universe. You could make up whatever you want about it and it would be true, because you said that it was true. Oh yes. This is truly a crazy thought. It leads your mind off on a tangent, thinking about all the constituent parts of this concept.

However, when you think about it, you as a secular person are projecting your own thoughts onto the universe. So in a way, atheists are projecting their ego onto the concept of it just as much. You make assumptions about reality, the god believers project assumptions based on their own observation. Yet for someone who believes in god they certainly function pretty normally in their lives. Projection. Why is it that I don’t believe in god? It is because projecting myself onto the world is just as silly as projecting myself onto god, when god is myself. Just the same as it is silly to project yourself onto the world.

Yes, I think it is silly to project myself onto a negative image of myself, across from me, perhaps inverted in colors, perhaps I am white, and it is black, denoting yin and yang (oh, not really, that was just a silly symbol I threw in to try to sound deep, and it failed!). I think instead it is more realistic to just project the signals I collect back onto the world around me, and not assume that the signals came from the negative image of myself, but simply to assume that the signals simply came from the world.

Yes, I do not contain this duality that a god believer contains to make negative assumptions about myself. Not negative as in undesirable, but photo negative. But why would you be prejudice against the concept of god? Why would you be prejudice against a concept which is supposed to be inherently beautiful? No. It’s not always beautiful. Sometimes the idea of god can be extremely scary. People are supposed to fear god, because what does god do? God sends you to hell. Yeeeeees god sends you to hell. Hehehe.

Hmm, I forgot what I was about to say. But maybe that’s what the FUCKING certainty is. The certainty is when you can no longer remember what you were about to say. When everything goes back to assumptions. Maybe when you finally do achieve insanity, it is when you could remember what you were about to say, the memories don’t clear and fade for a moment leaving you with only…

wow, these sentences are hard to read sometimes after I think too hard about it. That is beyond a slight of memory, that is developing a difficulty to form concepts based on the words you’re using…. no what was I about to say? I apologize for making this sentence so disjointed, I could stop typing and just think about it instead of typing stream of consciousness. Hah! …oh, I meant to say fade, not fake. It was a typo. That’s what distracted me. Oh yes, I remember where I was. But the thing I thought I was about to say, I realized didn’t fit with the sentence. I realized that I was about to make an incorrect assumption.

Leaving you with only what? That really is the question. When your memory fades for a moment, it leaves you essentially with nothing. That nothing, the big nothing. The nothing which is most scary. So far we have the absurd, the certain, and now, we have the nothing. How can one really contemplat nothing? Nothing is not something which one can actually contemplate, because when you think of nothing, it’s not an a-priori concept, it is the abscence of an a-priori concept. Try to imagine a concept without it’s a-priori concept, you can’t.

Wasn’t I about to say something about god? I switched thoughts. Yes, now I see. Each thought is like a strand of string, each thought is like a train. All these threads. The thoughts come out of the box. Now we have a picture of some of the box with the transparent tubes on it going in, and the box is projecting all these strands of thought out, or does it go in? That is the thing. Inside your head, there’s all these electrical signals. It’s not that the thoughts go in or out. The thoughts merely exist in your head. It is not as though… oh yes, these thoughts make me dizzy… it is not as though they go in or out of a box.

I think I made a breathrough. Yes, this is the breakthrough. I feel as though I found an uncertain concept! If I think about these thoughts inside my head, after they have already entered my head, instead of just letting myself go and experience the thoughts outside my head, I think about them as though they are thoughts already in my head. In there I capture them. I don’t simply look into the world outside my head. But if… yes, I see. That is why I forget. I know what is in between these lapses in memories. The lapses in memory are me trying to think about the concept I was trying to think about necessary for me to have consistence of a memory, the certainty. It is me uncertain for a second. Yes, I found true uncertainty, and it is the lapses in between certainty, when you can no longer remember how reality fits together anymore only briefly, and they manifest themselves in a dumbing quality which makes you forget the thought you were about to say…. and come back to the certainty.

I cannot seem to escape the certainty, and I am sorry reader, but I just can’t do it! I am going to make you so bored, thinking about all these contrived concepts, that I keep coming back to because of my inability to keep a progressive thought going, just a repeat, boring thing, predictable! But I am projecting, and now you are god, if we are to go by the the assumption that god is only what you project yourself onto. Yes, I am projecting how I feel onto you. That is beautiful.

I can see now why I may care so much about what other people think. It is just because like how I project myself onto god, I project myself onto others as well. I project my own concept of reality onto the world, because it is not as though these strands could come out of my head, they are within my head. Everything is within my head. I guess this may be what Descartes would call the soul, or unity, and when you break it up, it is what Hume would call, the bundle self. Unity. God.

So to sum up. There is a box, inside your head, with see through rubber tubes going into the box. But strings which seem to go out from inside your head, when really, they are inside the box. But the box is what your consciousness is inside. There is no strings of thought in the box. The box is empty, except for electric waves. And you cannot relate to what is outside of the box, except through your own projection. It is with this box, that someone can think of reality, god, the self, certainty, nothingness, and uncertainty. It is all a part of the box. This is all I can be certain of. I realize now that I think, therefor I am. I am the thing inside the box. Hume’s bundle self, you cannot imagine a unity of it. You can only think of yourself. If you are a very empirical thinker, you are not an internal thinker. They are not an amalgamation of all the things around you if you are a thinker of unity, they are only a bundle if you imagine all the things outside your head as though they were outside of the box, such as Hume. He believed so strongly in perception, as Descartes did not.

loaf don't become a coal burner okay pls

Lol

I see it all the time "oh, you're so white", "you're trying to be black", "don't try to talk like a black person". Why not, nigger? I'm just as cool, if not cooler than your average POC. I'm what the minorities call "pretty fly for a white guy", in my opinion. Not sure why I'd need anyone else's opinion on that, to be honest, considering RACE IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT.

Kendrick Lamar is a nigger.

Stop posting.

You think you're so big spamming my threads with your garbage? I served in the meme war of 1776, and I view punks like you as nothing but weaboo, lolicon loving degenerates.