Jeremy's Zombie Survival Field Guide

Foreword: This post is to inform certain friends of the reality and dangers of zombies. Please read carefully all that I have put forth, as one day, what you learn here could save yours and the lives of your friends and family in the event of a sudden and imminent zombie attack. If you are unsure of any practices to be mentioned, or would like to request additional information on the defense and fortification against zombies, please contact me through the information on this website. Thank you.

This guide will go through the identification of zombies, how to defend and fortify a building against attacks, how to kill a zombie, and what to do in the case of face to face encounters with zombies. All practices mentioned henceforth are safe and practical means that will save your life and the lives around you when performed with care and determination. Variance from the information to follow can lead to a painful and gruesome death. Let’s begin!


Identification: Zombies generally come in two forms, however new research into zombie origins is always advancing, and new forms may be discovered in the near future. For now, we will only focus on the two main types, as these are the most commonly encountered. The first is the reanimated corpse, or “undead” zombie. These are zombies that were once dead humans and have been reanimated, or brought back to a semi-life state through a variety of causes, including but not limited to magic and sorcery, chemical or bio-hazardous materials, parasitic creatures, and supernatural phenomenon. These zombies are typically gruesome to look at depending on how long they were previously dead, the manner in which they died, and where their bodies were when reanimated.

Undead zombies are slow moving, and lack all cognitive capabilities and have only basic motor function. They will advance on any living and moving creature unceasingly as their only sustenance comes from the devouring of brain matter. It has been long theorized that eating fresh brain matter will restore their decayed brains, resulting in a gradual return of their cognitive abilities, and would possibly lead to the reintroduction of a zombie into civilized life. Testing has proved however, that zombies receiving regular meals of fresh brains do not regain any of their missing brain power, but do result in a very smelly laboratory and extreme deficit of willing experimentation participants.

The second type of zombie that you are likely to encounter is the “infected” zombie. The life cycle of these zombies begins with a live host becoming infected through a variety of means, usually through the bite of another infected zombie, but any introduction of infected saliva of blood into a non-infected host’s system will result in that specimen becoming infected as well. The infection then rapidly spreads and takes over the host’s nervous system and ultimately their entire body. This process may take several days or a few hours, depending on the severity of the infection whether or not anyone has noticed the infection site. Typically, if the infection has gone unnoticed, the process will take longer, but this is not always the case.

The infection can come in several varieties, ranging from the natural chemicals produced from angry and unruly primates, top secret governmental research on soldier enhancement or bio-weaponry, or alien intervention. Characteristic signs of an infected zombie are unnatural speed, super human strength, and the desire to kill any other living creature. They will do so unceasingly and are to be more feared due to their lingering cognitive abilities. While their brain power is severely diminished, infected zombies still retain the ability to rationalize and solve simple problems, such as opening doors, climbing over obstacles, or knocking the gun out of a foe’s hand instead of outright attacking.

The main difference between infected zombies and undead zombies, is undead zombies kill to eat the brains of victims, where infected zombies kill to either establish their dominance over inferior races, as their primitive brain requires, or to increase their numbers. However be warned that any attack by a zombie that does not result in severe damage to the body will turn the victim in to a similar typed zombie.


Killing a Zombie: All zombies share the same weaknesses and can be killed in several ways. The most effective way to kill a zombie is by removing the head from the body. While this is not always the easiest route to take, it should always be assessed as the most sure fire way to ensure the complete death of a zombie. Severing the spinal cord at the base of the brain will have the same results. If the head cannot be removed, the next desirable way would be to destroy the head. This can be accomplished in a number of ways. The safest would be to shoot the head, aiming at the center, with a high caliber rifle from a far distance. While accuracy is required, this is the safest option as it keeps the most distance between you and the zombie, allowing for more time to kill as many as possible before retreating or being taken over. Propelled explosives that will inflict a lot of damage to the head are just effective.

At closer ranges, large caliber hand guns and shotguns are the most effective, as accuracy can be difficult while running or under assault from several directions. As the distance between yourself and a zombie decreases, the danger of death exponentially increases, which is why hand-to-hand is best to be avoided, but in the event that zombies have gotten past your defenses and are closing in, some very important facts need to be kept in mind. Zombies act without the use of internal body systems, therefore attacking their limbs and torso are ineffective means of damage. You should still try to destroy the head or remove it from the body. At close ranges, a baseball bat is a good weapon, as bashing the head in is useful, and in the case of undead zombies, their flesh is less resilient than living flesh and a good swing with a Louisville Slugger may result in the detachment of the head or an excellent headsplosion. Remember, blood spatter from infected zombies can cause infection!

Note: Always be mindful of your surroundings, and use whatever is available to defend yourself or kill and oncoming zombie. As a last resort in hand-to-hand confrontation a wooden stick to the head, commonly known as the “Shrute,” will sufficiently damage the brain, similar to vampire hunting.

Unless you are a trained military soldier, experienced vampire/preternatural hunter, or beet farmer, direct hand-to-hand combat with zombies should be avoided at all costs. The skills needed to overcome the overbearence and psychological effects of a zombie are only attained through years of training or beet farming.

Other methods of killing zombies include fire and explosions, large vehicles covered with razor wire and spikes, and falling rocks and structures. When using fire, be aware that infected zombies, being much faster, have the propensity to continue their rampage while on fire and can light other objects, people and zombies are fire, which may or may not work to your advantage, so always assess the situation when using fire.

Contrary to rumor, sunlight does not kill zombies, however some infected zombies may be severely burned by solar radiation, but this typically only occurs after years of living in the dark, or an side effect of the infecting substance to destroy melanin in the skin.


Protecting Yourself Against a Zombie Attack: Large, heavily structured buildings with few exists offer the best protection. These include churches, provided few stained glass windows on the ground floor, hospitals, and industrial complexes. Also super markets may be used, which will also offer supplies, but remember to barricade off loading docks.

If you cannot get to such a structure, avoid going outside, and remain in whatever building you are in at the time of attack. Close and lock all windows and doors and barricade them with wooden chests, couches, beds and chairs. Just remember not to use any furniture being used to barricade a window. Close all drapery and avoid exposure through windows. It is best to remain on the upper floors, to increase lookout range and provide the maximum distance between yourself and zombies. Also turn off all lighting and radios/televisions. Refrain from large amounts of noise as this will attract otherwise uninterested zombies.

If a large vehicle is in the vicinity and you have decided to escape, first load the vehicle only with necessary supplies and equipment. Cover the windows with wood or metal, and be sure to secure all doors from opening from the outside.

Note: It is proper etiquette that after sustaining an injury, or coming into contact with an infection that will result in your turning, to warn all members of your party as such so they may make arrangements to shoot you dead upon first signs of zombification. It is still your duty to take out as many zombies as possible, and in the event that a party member need be left behind to save the rest, you are bound to make that sacrifice.


Zombies and Your Party: While many party configurations exist, knowing the dynamics of yours will help you to survive an attack. If you are alone, and few people like you, you will most likely die, so do not be this person. Also the overliked person will also come to a gruesome end, so don’t be him either. If you are an outsider to the group you will most likely be killed, unless you bring important skills or information. Black people, I’m sorry, horror movie rules apply here. If there are two men with equal specialized skill sets, one will die, most likely the other will too. If there is a party member constantly whines, it is easiest to sacrifice this person, as it will put the others at ease. If someone tends to freak out and scream a lot, shoot this person, they will eventually panic and forget to close a door or lead a zombie army to you.

Couples in a party will have difficulty making it all the way through if they have a well established relationship, however budding or reviving romances will survive.

Old people always die. Always. Kids usually survive, someone needs to tell their story. If someone is injured, that will not result in their zombification, they will generally survive provided it was a heroic act that caused their injury. Stupidity will only ensure your death.


While this is not a complete guide to zombie attack survival, it is a good starting point and could prove the difference between your survival and or separation from your much needed brains. Please continue to practice your survival skills and always remember that a zombie attack can occur at any time. Zombies are a very real danger, and you should always be on the lookout for zombies and their surprise attacks. Please inform your loved ones and never let someone tell you that you are foolish for your precautions! Good luck!

At Least This Weekend Should Be Fun!

I got to exercise my Masshole today, I was pretty excited about that, but I'll get to that shortly. I'm starting this post by letting you know my body is ready to kill itself. I've invested my time bouldering lately, meaning hardcore rock climbing that stresses the arms, fingers, shoulders, and toes? a lot more than regular rock climbing would... It's completely awesome, and I love it, please pardon my lack of fun and unusual descriptors, but I'm saving them for a bit later.

Both my knees are aching, one legitimately at least, my upper back is constantly sore, as well as my neck, but that's from belaying. My forearms have never been this strained, barring all masturbation jokes, and I'm pretty sure I know what a broken toe feels like now... Still it's a whole new kind of rush while your body hangs from your fingertips over large plushy mats that are as fun to fall on as it is frustrating to actually fall. And to finish a route that you've been working on for a hours if not days? A sense of accomplishment that is only amplified by the small amounts of endorphins and adrenaline in your system. Do it!

Here it is, and most of you have probably already heard this, but I'll try to be a bit more articulate and imaginative about it. So here I am coming to a red light, slowing down and taking my place hugging the yellow line to courteously allow for traffic going straight to have enough room to do so, and some dumb dyke bitch (oh, they will get better) driving a truck a hundred times larger than her evolutionarily smaller gendered brain can handle driving correctly, taking a right onto the oncoming lane of the street I'm on. Of course, she has no idea how to properly turn a truck around a corner, and the dumpster dropped results of a drug induced blackout concluding with incestual rape, comes within inches of decimating the driver's side of my gorgeous green Jeep.

Now, the retarded, abortion surviving love child of Bubba Joe and Bobby Sue slams on her brakes, and sneers down her crooked beak of a witch nose at me and has the balls large enough to cause the suspension of her gasoline sucking, poison emitting Ford POS 150 to strain, to actually be mad at me. Somehow, this genetic reject finds in her the bile and audacity, shear fucking gall, to actually think I was at fault for her obvious and inevitable disastrous attempt at driving!

So taken aback was I that I was left speechless, forgetting for a moment someone would actually exist (and of course that she did, and in Rochester...) whose ill-formed gray matter could arrive at such a conclusion, but that I had just encountered her, and she was mad at me! This I will never be able to explain, nor comprehend, and despite generations of secluded and celibate monks (please note the paradox) dedicating their time to explaining such events with little avail, will never find the purpose for such an encounter.

After the effects of the wretched gaze, peppered with hate and served with a side plate of disgust, I opened my door, as the window would have taken too long, threw out my left hand, and gave her the Masshole salute, complete with a single finger flying high and a pronounced wave to announce to the line of cars behind me, I meant everything implied with the gesture with added hate and vengeance.

I doubt the bitch saw it, nor do I care. As far the universe is concerned, my actions were justified and order is now restored. Let this be only a single account to represent the hundreds of driving debacles I face each day, only a single testament to the horrid being known as a New York Driver. Powers That Be help us.

The names of the parties at fault were changed to protect the innocent, illustrate the level of perversion witnessed, and for your enjoyment.

Previously, On Battlestar Galactica...

Oops. Guess it has been a while. Well not a whole lot worth telling about in my usual virulent manner happened. I spent a few weeks in Rochester alone, thank the Powers That Be, which I realized, after going back to Massachusetts for a few days, really fucking sucks. Sure, it was great to not have to listen to the small comments about what-the-fuck-ever-little-thing-that-pisses-my-roommate-off, but I'm actually a very social person. I do like getting out of the damn house and living up to my self proclaimed title of the King of the Assholes. Unfortunately, Rochester is a blackhole of entertainment. (With the exception of the Gonculator show at the Montage Music Hall, Monday night! GO THERE!) Even if some of the places are worth going to, my friends here are not nearly as kick-ass as my old highschool friends, some of which are actually hot girls. FUCK YOUR GIRL/GUY RATIO, RIT!

So, making friends with exotic named shots and a few bottles of the bars' best, grinding on that cute looking brunette, and exercising my wit with blatant insults to the bulldozer of a douchebag who has either had one too many shots of Jager or too many run-ins with the defensive line, making him oblivious to the obvious defamation I've caused him, turns out to be a great time! All I have to do now is graduate from an Institute who decided to only hold the classes I need long after I'm willing to quietly reside in this frozen hell-hole and take them, and find a job worth the 5+ long and drunken years I've invested into my education four hours west of the most westerly point I should ever have dared ventured to.

Upside to the Brick City? I did meet a cute one, but here's the kicker... She grew up minutes away from me, and even attended a rival highschool. What are the odds? More importantly, can I make the last five years worth it with this?

Tune in next week to find out.

At Least I Kept the Whipped Cream Out of My Beard

The walls inside me break down as the man I've become crumbles. How poeticly cryptic. So apparently it's been so long I've forgotten how to do some things that were pertinent to my afternoon and evening. Maybe I just misinterpretted what it was all about, maybe I need to learn what friendship looks like again, maybe I'm reading wrong the one thing I think I'm reading right, maybe I just failed miserably.

Either way, the night I thought went well ended unexpectedly and unfavorably. More reasons to hate roommates, I guess. I did walk away with some new ideas to think about, maybe some previously closed off to me before. Definately some that would turn the sailor mouthed, rough necked, Masshole that I'm proud to be into the exact person I direct all my hate towards.

Fuck.

As I Wear Two Different Shoes

Major chrisis. My level of asshole has dropped significuntly, if you haven't already noticed from the gross lack of offensive material in my latest posts. I've been swearing less, driving less like the true Masshole that I am, and even giving New York drivers a break when they inevitably drive incorrectly. My insults have been come nigh amicable and my temper has all but ceased to flare.

Most disturbingly, I've been having a distressing urge to shave, or at least quaintly trim, my beard. I know! How sick is this, that I want to actually deface what makes me the greatest man alive since, well ever in my own eyes, but my own face? How perposterous does this sound to anyone who knows me well enough to know these thoughts are the core being of everything I despise, and to have the undying volition to succumb to them? What is becoming of me?

I have my suspicions, of what could be causing this faithless and debauched transendence of mine, and I'm sure some of you may have figured it out as well. But Myself-willing, I will only be defeated by the most unholy of actions that would cause me the pleasure I so forcefully and unequivocally seek, and remove your mind from the gutter because that's not what I'm talking about (Sara).

I will mull over this for the time being and return with hopefully some good news. If not, know that I went down in a blaze of glory matched in proportion only to my beard, and a maelstrom of the most depraved. Or I pussed out and am contently living the life I desperately dread at the time of writing this.

Pre-parting note: As I write this, in my mind's eye the world is being ravaged by fires from the heaven's, demons from the hell's and Zeus' lightning strikes the ground with the force of exploding suns. In the middle of this blitzkrieg of apocalyptic immensity, I stand alone, pushing the bodies of the fallen and weary from me, and face this unruly force that threatens everything you know and love about me. And damn, does my beard look as epic as ever.

It's time to stop complaining over your problems and finally do something about them.

It Began, As Always, With the Desire for Power

Friday night again, seems like I've run out of stuff to say already. Or I'm more lethargic than I thought. In either case, it's still Friday night and I'm tapped out and blogging. Kind of really lame.

Tonight is about a bunch of random thoughts, most that pertain of course to me.

I've decided that I need a camera phone. I've been using the stupid $20 cell I got free when I signed up for this plan a year and half ago, but I'm too cheap to buy one, so I'm stuck with a phone that does exactly what a phone should, make calls, that's all. Transgression is the key to procrastination... I need a camera phone because I've come across several moments where I wish I had one.

Perfect Camera Moment 1: Under a "MOTORCYCLES ONLY" sign in the parking lot on campus was a small bright blue moped. It was tiny, it made me laugh.

PCM 2: A Brinks truck being towed away. Its an irony thing, I'm still working on that.

PCM 3: This is my favorite. We have the only nationally funded deaf school at RIT, and that means a lot of deaf kids, and of course interpreters for them. The most famous of our interpreters is Santa. Yes, kids, Santa works at RIT in the off years, complete with plump jolly figure and fluffy white beard. I saw Santa walking around not to long ago with his favorite carbonated beverage in hand, Pepsi.

My first blog, chronicling my life while working in Newburg, NY was pretty much a bitchfest on all the drivers I had to put up with while driving to and from the site I was working at that day. And while I had promised myself not to do that again, as it was a complete failure, although I know a few laughed (Guddy...). I have to break that promise today. I've noticed that New York drivers are the worst I've ever encountered, and I've driven up and down the East coast, and in Texas. New Yorkers don't just think they own the road, the believe the road was put their especially for them, and we are all the hallucinogenic byproduct of whatever non-FDA-Approved antidepressant they must be on to continue living in this shithole of a state. Also, I believe they never passed any math course, because they obviously don't know what the giant black numbers say, or how to match them to the numbers on their speedometers.

I've been rock climbing at Rock Ventures (on University Ave, go there) for the past 3 weeks and I have this to say about it. My forearms are killing me. It's going to be a fun shift tomorrow.

My new video card came in the other day and I've been playing Fallout 3 and Oblivion on it. They are beautiful! I'm becoming readdicted to video games.

Obama won. Not too surprised about that, I would have voted, but being from Massachusetts, there was little point. Oh, and I don't give two flaming flying rats asses about all of it, and the amount of effort it would have taken to get a absentee ballot would have detracted from my proactive procrastination.

Song of the Week: Corruption in America - Gonculator, check out their MySpace, Facebook friend them. Great guys, great beats.

I need to pick up the bass again, it's been too long.



Message from the Author: I took some time out of writing my paper the other day to make this blog look a bit nicer. I created a graphic for the header, added a Quick Reader Poll to get some feedback from all 5 of you that read it, and made it easier to comment. Help me out by giving your opinions or whatever. Or just fuck off, I don't need your bitchy comments anyway.

The Day Jeremy Knew His Destiny

Let me start out with this, daylight savings rocks!

Well it’s been an intense week for me, and since I don’t really have anything to comment on today, I’m going to update you on my awesome week. Thursday was a complete disaster for me, like always, one slightly catastrophic incident after another beat me into submission finally ending in me losing an entire post Thursday night, which would have enlightened you to the tragedy I had foregone to get to that point. Fortunately for you, my torment was too much and I left my blog postless for a bit longer than usual.

Friday was pretty decent though. Halloween started me heading out to Canandaigua to shoot a few scenes from a student film I’m in. We filmed on location at this nationally renowned garden, which was pretty nice, but the best part was my cute-as-hell director who I will not elaborate on, to spare you, my faithful few readers, from the endorphin induced stomach retching poetic imagery I’m inclined to write about her. You’re goddamn welcome.

Following that, hit up good ol’ Rock Ventures for a bit of rock climbing, which I recommend to everyone. It has turned into my favorite recreation, I can choose whether I want to be challenged, or just have fun on any route, and getting to the top of these walls with just finger holds is a great feeling of accomplishment, almost as good as the feeling of releasing my hate upon you all a couple times weekly. Plus my arms and shoulders are getting a great workout and I’m getting sexier by the day.

Finished off Halloween by heading out to the Bug Jar, a local joint showcasing live music of somewhat questionable listenability, and $2 Rolling Rocks. But the best part of that night was chilling outside, talking to a pimp and getting stumbling ass drunk as a Gay Cowboy.

If you think that was a fun night, Saturday wins the prize. After a quick shift at RV, followed by some rock climbing with Britt and refueling ourselves with greasy, garlicky, buttery, cheesy, barbequed and wholly innutritious fried chicken and motz-sticks that pass as acceptable Papa John appetizers, we headed out to the Montage for a night of rock star mayhem.

Gonculator kicks ass, and it’s not Hogan’s. A local power-pop band from Fredonia, who not only know how to use their instruments as perfect tools of godlike musical wonder, but have the energy and stage presence to command an entire crowed of drunken and highly ruly patrons that unfortunately did not pack the Montage to the level their performance clearly deserved. Their show, one of five, is the pinnacle of rock band stardom beginnings. After the show, we hung out with the band, praised their head banging talent, commented on the lead singers pink wings, and drank the night away, shot after shot after mind melting shot.

Between other sets and drinks when we needed a groove band and alcoholic reprieve, we hit on Toni, the best and best looking bartender ever to hand me a Blue Bottle and discounted shots. But partying with rock stars comes with its price, as anyone who ever hung around Chad Kroeger I’m sure knows. Ours was being hit on by some of the more colorful and drunker ladies that were circling the drain of total drunken inhalation. BJ almost got raped, Britt I’m sure is a bit bruised from the constant barrage of punches he received each time someone (pretty much me) said anything funny to the inebriated lady at his side, and I ended up making face thanks to the regrettable tendency to lose one’s misjudgment while in the company of Jameson.

Capped off the night with a few parting words to the closing manager of the Montage as we rushed out leaving the contents of someone’s stomach hopefully all in the porcelain throne and proceeded to get lost in Rochester. Stopping not so quickly at McDonald’s to pick of some fries which later managed to fuse themselves to the side of my Jeep with the help of stomach acid and face numbing 40 mph wind as we cruised back home.

The next anticipated night of rock star mayhem is December 1, when Gonculator will return to the Montage. And this time we are promoting the fuck out of the show. If you live in the Rochester area, look for fliers, return here and check out Methodical Madness for more info, spread the word. We will see you Dec 1. Rock On!

Always trust your instincts, they will never fail you, unless you are Britt.

Second parting side note: I forgot to mention theres a cutie working at Rock Ventures. I'm coming for you, be ready.

Friday Night Mayhem

This one is for you Chris, you whiny little bitch.

I'm drunk and just broke into my own place because I grabbed the wrong key off my keychain...

99 Problems, You are every one.

4 am.

6 cups of coffee, 1 paper, 2 bulletins, 2 drasically different and equally fulfilling conversations, and soon to be 1 blog post down. I'd say a very productive all nighter, considering the 3 part Criminal Analysis paper I just emailed in to my professor was due 10 hours ago.

What better setting than my dark living room, soft glow of the television after the cable box has gone to sleep, and the sounds of various choice songs coming softly out of my laptop to write up this post?

Unfortunately, the crack-like symptoms brought on by the shotgunning of strong brew causes my hands to twitch like MJF in an earthquake and my thoughts to be as coherently solid as a Salvador Dali timepiece.

I want to put something interesting here. I want to entertain you. I can't. I'm not sorry so much as I it occurs to me after failing several times to put something of sustance here that I really don't frakking care about your amusement at this moment. In fact it is now my volition to offend you, and I'm going to try to reach out to as many people as possible to do this. Only those who either understand me very well or are as frakking apathetic as me will not be offended, and to you I say, fuck off.

I hate blacks. They act something special. You're not. You're just another dumb nigger who thinks you deserve respect because your relatives hundreds of years ago were taken advantage of by white men. Hey, we developed our brains faster than your dumb asses, get over it.

Women need to stop complaining about every little thing. News-fucking-flash, men do not give a shit about any of your problems. We have problems of our own and most of them are trying to provide for your money grubbing whore self. The other problems are trying to figure out how to get away from your crazy bitching. And we don't by your "period" story. At least try to find another excuse, that one's been used up and we are sick of hearing it, and yes your sister is hotter than you.

Foreigners... Just stay the fuck out of our country. Keep your goddamned problems to yourself. If you can't make enough money because your nation is poor and dirty and leeching off of ours, remember this, in only a few hundred years we made our country one of the most prosperous in the world. You've had a lot longer and you still you fail at life. Trying to deal with your shitty country has brought ours into an economic regression. Thanks a fucking lot. And terrorists, get a better fucking hobby, the world doesn't give a shit about your struggle from oppression. We have to put up with blacks and we never crashed a plane into your shitstorm of a country.

I think all organized religion is a complete joke. Seriously I laugh at you. There is no God, how the hell can you believe that fairy tale? Do you belive in Santa and Godzilla too? Look at science, theres documentable and quantifiable proof that we decended from a monkey, which decended from a fish... Are you really stupid enough to believe a book written by a guy doing some ancient form of pot? You should join the closest cult and drink the punch, please. (Sidenote: This is a pathetic jab at religion I know, but I'm trying to move quickly, back the fuck off)

Your baby is ugly, I don't care what you think or what people tell you. Same goes for your fat ugly ass.

Anyone who has ever looked at a teenage girl and gotten an erection, I have nothing to say to your perverted ass, I agree.

I have no problems fucking your girlfriend, I'll even tell you about it. Your girlfriends pussy is dank though, you can thank me for that one.

Your girlfriend is also a bitch, and if she wasn't offering me her sweet pussy, my fist would be making frequent trips to her face. Keep that bitch in line, please.

We are not causing global warming, the Earth is coming out of an ice age, of course it's going to warm up, we contribute neglibly to this effect. Litter more, drive harder, and kill penguins.

Abort your fetuses. We don't need any more kids sucking up our resources.

Republicans suck.

If you were offended by anything here, you are more hebetudinous than I previously claimed. Hang youself, post it on youtube, that's what all you little whiny faggots do these days.

How did I forget faggots? Don't marry, please. You disgust everyone around you. An entire population of you has AIDS for a reason. If there was a God, that would be Him telling you to die.

If I missed you, I apologize. Please feel free to be offended, regardless.

I masturbated at some point during typing this.

I hope this comes back to bite me in the ass.

Live from the Ritz

As I hunker down in what is a sports themed eating establishment, recovering from the effects of an Irish hot chocolate and muddling over the latest lecture from Philosophy, for which I'm glad I had the comfort of the Irish Hot C, I try to put my personal philosophy in perspective.

This, as I think on it more, is a very daunting task. Summing up anyone's personal views on Life, the Universe, and Everything seems like it would take any rational thinking being a bit more than the space of a single post. This being my case, though rational may be successfully argued against, my personal philosophy takes on, as I've learned in my brief stint in the philosophic world, a few basic ideas from several most notable Philosophers. And while their names for the most part escape me, again due in part to the whiskey infused chocolate drink I take regularly to this class, the basic premiss is still there and I shall do my best to descibe just how yours truly works, in my attempt to let you in on a dark world as yet mostly unexplored by anyone, including myself.

As I've grown over the last year, through a handful of experiences that range from legal to illegal to morally depraved, I've come to know a lot about myself, and now have the proper words to describe exactly who I have become. Here goes...

A large philosophic force in the early years of its progression was Ecipurianism. From what I gather from poorly taken notes, it's largest basis is that one should live a pleasureable life, seeking to maximize one's tranquility through knowledge and friendships and minimize stress and fear. However this life, while describes the underlying skeleton of my views, fails to go to the extents that I would. It also says that one should abstain as it were to the physical desires, of course being sex, lavish spending, and appetite satisfaction.

A more tame form of Hedonism, it does not quite allow the freedom I seek in my own life. And before you say, "Well, Jeremy, wouldn't Hedonism be what you are looking for then?" I would say, "Shut the f**k up and do not interrupt me." Hedonism, while it is quite tempting, treats pleasure as the Number 1 and puts far too little emphasis on a few other things in live I deem necessary.

One of those things is experience. So far, through the loose attention I've paid to class, I have not found the exact philosophic stance that would best explain, or at least support, my desire to experience life. The closest I've come was through David Hume. Hume was in short, an asshole. This is not an official philosophic community view, but the damned jack-off's largest contribution was to say that there is very little you say with absolute certainty. In an example given by Hume, and fitting to my seat next to a pool hall, if you can say that you saw a billiard ball traveling down a pool table, and label this Event A, then you witnessed a second billiard ball traveling down a pool table, Event B, you can not know with absolute certainty that these two events are connected.

I would put forth, my fist to Hume's face, Event A, and my continued barrage of insults and conjectures to his explaination. If I had witnessed these two events happening myself, and had seen the first ball hitting the second, I would be absolutely certain that the two events were linked through a series of physic's laws. Being an engineer, I could draw the Free Body Diagram in effect to prove this to Hume.

As every good lawyer is, as Hume was, he would have his counter arguement ready, and it is this: If the two events happened in close spacial and temporal proximity, it can be assumed they are linked... Fine, whatever you win this round due to my lack of patience to argue forth. Who win's the war? Well, Hume eventually when crazy and suffered a nervous breakdown. He then left his philisophical writings and played billiards, and the irony is evident. When he came back he had only this to say:

It is best to leave the frustration of thinking, and go out and experience life.

Well put. Apparently I take my philosophical views from a man who went temporarily insane and from a philosopher who couldn't get laid. Well not quite, like I said earlier, there is a lot more too it then what I will be able to put here, but this is the distilled version.

I also see an informal relationship as a trial-run for marriage, and therefore feel cheating is perfectly acceptable under several conditions. If something does not directly affect myself or someone I care about, it is not my problem, and unless I can save face by helping, I will in all likelyhood ignore the problem. Most people would simply call my an ass, myself included. If anyone is ever up for a more indepth discussion on any of it, I would be happy to oblige.

I feel Thursdays should be stricken from the calendar and a second Tuesday added in its place, perhaps Twosday? Write your Congressman...

Day 2, Post 2

I originally intended this as a bi-weekly updated venture, with the occasional side note as required to impart my wisdom and rants about life, but as I feel my introductory post lacked any real sustenance, I am going to make up for it.

Name: Jeremy

Occupation: Student, Engineer, Bringer of Joy and Harbinger of Death

Interests: Life, Bass guitar, Chocolate Milk

Jeremy Recommends: Living.

Sadly, in today's world people are focused too much on pop culture, fast food, and a cutthroat business world to take the time to live. They spend too much time behind a desk, in the meeting room, pouring over bills and reading pourly written blogs. This post is for those people. Pry your eyes from the computer screen, head out into the world with head held high and try some sushi, I heard the blowfish is delicious!

In your fast paced lackadaisical existence, you forget that the important part of life cannot be found on the television or online. It is not hiding in the game controller of your system of choice, and it certainly can not be found walled up in a cubicle where sunlight rarely graces. Life can only be found flirting with Death.

Wait. I do not mean to say that you should kill yourself, that's ridiculous. I do not want to lose the few readers I have. Instead put yourself in a potentially life threatening situation... with the added comfort of safety in mind of course.

Okay, let's start small. Hop behind the wheel of a sports car, head to the highway and open the throttle. Wind in your hair and hopefully that hotty riding shotgun, and the exhiliration of racing at blazing internet speeds! will do wonders for your body. First, the heart will start racing, your muscles will tense, your pupils will dialate and you will feel completely in control. Then you realize, as you step out of the sports car, and hopefully not into a cop car, your entire body feels alive. This my friend is the effect of adrenaline. Perhaps the greatest drug your body can produce. It's intoxication is mezmerizing, and you will always crave more.

If you do not have access to a nice Italian car complete with real Italian leather and a gorgeous Italian babe, try something else. Get creative. Try skydiving, swimming with sharks, gorge jumping. Most activities that have been tried and tested true by countless before you are completely safe but still offer that sense of near death. The body's natural reaction? Pumping a shot of adrenaline into your veins.

Trust me, its great. I've been getting my dose in different ways lately, and I am loving life.

With that, I'm off to refill my body's supply of Chocolate Milk.

Black is the New Black

Let me start by saying I already regret in every manner possible doing this blog. First off, this isn't something I do. I try to stay in the obscurity of namelessness until such a time as an opportunity presents itself to allow me to act accordingly with my inner child. This often results in either my making an ass of myself, or simply being an ass.

Secondly, I've always had the idea in the back of my mind that blogging was for either that metrosexual guy at the corner of the bar with a light gray sweatervest over his light blue collared shirt drinking a martini, fauxhawk and plucked eyebrows to match, or someone with enough articulate talent to be able to voice their overthough opinions on a worldwide forum with the hopes of either bettering the world or their career. I am not this guy, and am in fact the existential opposite. Those who know me tend to agree.

Thirdly, what I have to say is neither articulate, well thought out, purposeful nor entertaining. I simply would like to spread my inner child over the inner surfaces of the new age of technology. Global connection established... let's get down to the fun and dirty!

However, it seems even I have my limits to just how much I want to divulge at any one time, and I reached it somewhere around the first paragraph. I've already lost my interest in doing this blog. But I still need to voice my one last reason for my utter laments about blogging...

I need to start at the beginning... My friend and cohort, Britt (bnemecek.blogspot.com) started a blog recently as part of self-training for a weekly blog he will be publishing for the D&C. This reminded me how much I love blogging (sarcasm reserved for those who did not pay attention to my aforementioned hatred of blogging) and prompted me to also start one of my own. But as any blogger knows, a decent title for their blog is important, so after helping Britt with his title, I needed to think of one for myself, and went about in the usual way of finding one, personal influences and cultural catchphrases that would seem witty if not superbly devious in their vague description of how barren my life is of meaning. And this is where I met my first roadblock. All of my "original" ideas had already been taken, and most of them by people who have not posted a new blog since 2001! This is an outrage in the least! and I promptly gave up after a near hour of searching for the perfect obscure descriptor for my blog. Only after the smoke had cleared and rescue workers found my inner peace was I able to realize my downfall would be my answer.

If I really need to explain more, I'm sorry for you and all those you call friends.

Until next time, Peace Love and Rock n' Roll never hurt anyone it didn't kill...