- More of my philosophy about what is it to be a genius.. - 1 Update
- Here is my new poem.. - 1 Update
- Here is my new proverb - 1 Update
- More of my philosophy about the good challenge and the positive energy and more.. - 1 Update
- More of my philosophy about my kind of personality.. - 1 Update
- More of my philosophy about the positive energy and about the super soldier.. - 1 Update
- Read again, i correct about more of my philosophy about the self and the human soul and more.. - 1 Update
- More of my philosophy of how to be lovable and more.. - 1 Update
- More of my philosophy about creativity and about imagination and about freedom and more... - 2 Updates
| Gilgamesh Godot <gilgameshgodot@gmail.com>: Jan 12 11:08PM -0800 Common Logical Fallacies Ad Hominem An ad hominem fallacy uses personal attacks rather than logic. This fallacy occurs when someone rejects or criticizes another point of view based on the personal characteristics, ethnic background, physical appearance, or other non-relevant traits of the person who holds it. Ad hominem arguments are often used in politics, where they are often called "mudslinging." They are considered unethical because politicians can use them to manipulate voters' opinions against an opponent without addressing core issues. Straw Man A straw man argument attacks a different subject rather than the topic being discussed — often a more extreme version of the counter argument. The purpose of this misdirection is to make one's position look stronger than it actually is. The straw man argument is appropriately named after a harmless, lifeless scarecrow. Instead of contending with the actual argument, they attack the equivalent of a lifeless bundle of straw — an easily defeated puppet that the opponent was never arguing for in the first place. Appeal to Ignorance An appeal to ignorance (also known as an "argument from ignorance") argues that a proposition must be true because it has not been proven false or there is no evidence against it. The argument can be used to bolster multiple contradictory conclusions at once, such as the following two claims: "No one has ever been able to prove that extraterrestrials exist, so they must not be real." "No one has ever been able to prove that extraterrestrials do not exist, so they must be real." An appeal to ignorance doesn't prove anything. Instead, it shifts the need for proof away from the person making a claim. False Dilemma/False Dichotomy A false dilemma or false dichotomy presents limited options — typically by focusing on two extremes — when in fact more possibilities exist. The phrase "America: Love it or leave it" is an example of a false dilemma. The false dilemma fallacy is a manipulative tool designed to polarize the audience, promoting one side and demonizing another. It's common in political discourse as a way of strong-arming the public into supporting controversial legislation or policies. Slippery Slope A slippery slope argument assumes that a certain course of action will necessarily lead to a chain of future events. The slippery slope fallacy takes a benign premise or starting point and suggests that it will lead to unlikely or ridiculous outcomes with no supporting evidence. You may have used this fallacy on your parents as a teenager: "But you have to let me go to the party! If I don't go to the party, I'll be a loser with no friends. Next thing you know, I'll end up alone and jobless, living in your basement when I'm 30!" Circular Argument Circular arguments occur when a person's argument repeats what they already assumed before without arriving at a new conclusion. For example, if someone says, "According to my brain, my brain is reliable," that's a circular argument. Circular arguments often use a claim as both a premise and a conclusion. This fallacy only appears to be an argument when in fact it's just restating one's assumptions. Hasty Generalization A hasty generalization is a claim based on a few examples rather than substantial proof. Arguments based on hasty generalizations often don't hold up due to a lack of supporting evidence: The claim might be true in one case, but that doesn't mean it's always true. Hasty generalizations are common in arguments because there's a wide range of what's acceptable for "sufficient" evidence. The rules for evidence can change based on the claim you're making and the environment where you are making it — whether it's rooted in philosophy, the sciences, a political debate, or discussing house rules for using the kitchen. Red Herring A red herring is an argument that uses confusion or distraction to shift attention away from a topic and toward a false conclusion. Red herrings usually contain an unimportant fact, idea, or event that has little relevance to the real issue. Red herrings are a common diversionary tactic when someone wants to shift the focus of an argument to something easier or safer to address. But red herrings can also be unintentional. Appeal to Hypocrisy An appeal to hypocrisy — also known as the tu quoque fallacy — focuses on the hypocrisy of an opponent. The tu quoque fallacy deflects criticism away from oneself by accusing the other person of the same problem or something comparable. The tu quoque fallacy is an attempt to divert blame. The fallacy usually occurs when the arguer uses apparent hypocrisy to neutralize criticism and distract from the issue. Causal Fallacy Causal fallacies are informal fallacies that occur when an argument incorrectly concludes that a cause is related to an effect. Think of the causal fallacy as a parent category for other fallacies about unproven causes. One example is the false cause fallacy, which is when you draw a conclusion about what the cause was without enough evidence to do so. Another is the post hoc fallacy, which is when you mistake something for the cause because it came first — not because it actually caused the effect. Sunk Cost A sunk cost fallacy is when someone continues doing something because of the effort they already put in it, regardless of whether the additional costs outweigh the potential benefits. "Sunk cost" is an economic term for any past expenses that can no longer be recovered. For example: Imagine that after watching the first six episodes of a TV show, you decide the show isn't for you. Those six episodes are your "sunk cost." A sunk cost fallacy would be deciding to finish watching anyway because you've already invested roughly six hours of your life in it. Appeal to Authority Appeal to authority is the misuse of an authority's opinion to support an argument. While an authority's opinion can represent evidence and data, it becomes a fallacy if their expertise or authority is overstated, illegitimate, or irrelevant to the topic. For example, citing a foot doctor when trying to prove something related to psychiatry would be an appeal to authority fallacy. Equivocation Equivocation happens when a word, phrase, or sentence is used deliberately to confuse, deceive, or mislead. In other words, saying one thing but meaning another. When it's poetic or comical, we call this a "play on words." But when it's done in a political speech, an ethics debate, or an economics report — and it's designed to make the audience think you're saying something you're not — that's when it becomes a fallacy. Appeal to Pity An appeal to pity relies on provoking your emotions to win an argument rather than factual evidence. Appealing to pity attempts to pull on an audience's heartstrings, distract them, and support their point of view. Someone accused of a crime using a cane or walker to appear more feeble in front of a jury is one example of appeal to pity. The appearance of disability isn't an argument on the merits of the case, but it's intended to sway the jury's opinion anyway. Bandwagon Fallacy The bandwagon fallacy assumes something is true (or right or good) because others agree with it. In other words, the fallacy argues that if everyone thinks a certain way, then you should, too. One problem with this kind of reasoning is that the broad acceptance of a claim or action doesn't mean that it's factually justified. People can be mistaken, confused, deceived, or even willfully irrational in their opinions, so using them to make an argument is flawed. |
| Gilgamesh Godot <gilgameshgodot@gmail.com>: Jan 12 11:06PM -0800 Why Do You Talk to Yourself? By Kendra Cherry Updated on September 28, 2021 Medically reviewed by Daniel B. Block, MD https://www.verywellmind.com/why-do-i-talk-to-myself-causes-and-benefits-5202953 |
| Gilgamesh Godot <gilgameshgodot@gmail.com>: Jan 12 11:03PM -0800 The Huntress Sofia Samatar For fear of the huntress the city closed like an eye. Only my window stayed open, because, as a foreigner, I didn't know better. In the morning, poor children would scrub the stains from the roofs. Now the rain-dark head came down and rested on the dome of the embassy. The moon shed feathers of light, as if molting. In the morning the eaves would drip with pinkish foam. A stench of fur came in at the window. I went to slam it shut, but instead I stood there, fingers gripping the edge of the frame. I closed my eyes in the searching heat. All over the city people were taking shelter in their cellars and under their beds. Once there were two children and they were the only ones on their block who kept the passion for monsters after they grew up. The only ones. Why should that be? Our dad used to tell us stories of camel herding. He would scare us by mimicking the sound of a lion. This lion didn't sound like any lion from movies or games or anything. It had a whining hunger. It was a tenor lion. Her prowler's voice, surprisingly high and small. Like a question. All over the city people were covering their heads. The leaves outside my window shrank and smoked. Exiles and insomniacs share this feeling: that each is the only one. I feel like I'm turning into this fierce person. A taskmaster to myself, like a ballet dancer or a monk. Are monks happy? No, they are not interested in that category of feeling. But I'm supposed to be. I'm an American. The Huntress left dark patches wherever she passed. She left a streak. In the morning, the hotel staff would find me unconscious, gummed to the floor. The proprietor weeping, for nothing like this had ever happened in his establishment, nothing. Had I not read the instructions on the desk? The fierceness can be seen around the mouth. I compress my lips when I'm thinking. Our dad was the same way. In the morning the staff would run me a bath. Now the Huntress bent to my window, but she was not there to feed. She was there as a witness. Sofia Samatar is the author of the novels A Stranger in Olondria and The Winged Histories, and the short story collection, Tender. Her work has received the William L. Crawford Award, the John W. Campbell Award, the British Fantasy Award, and the World Fantasy Award. She lives in Virginia. Del Samatar holds a BA in Fine Arts from Rutgers University. He lives in New Jersey, where he is pursuing a career as a tattoo artist. |
| Gilgamesh Godot <gilgameshgodot@gmail.com>: Jan 12 11:02PM -0800 The Swan As Metaphor For Love Amelia Gray The Swan as Metaphor for Love is included in Amelia Gray's collection Gutshot, which is now available from FSG. Purchase it from Powell's A swan's foot, like a duck's, is a webbed claw. In traversing swan shit and mud, the claws gunk up and reek. Nobody in the history of the world, save another swan, has licked a swan foot while that foot was still attached to the swan. The feet resemble rabid bats in their sickly color and texture. Moving north on the swan's undercarriage, one will find an eroded civilization of swan shit and pond scum. This is a banal phrase, "pond scum," one that is easily ignored, but look closer, take a more personal approach. Swans eat grasses, sedges and pond weed, each teeming with murk. The birds will also eat insects, snails and a fresh shrimp if they're near one. (Pond scum is more of the same: swan shit, fish shit, frog shit, half a can of beer poured by some fuck teenager, plastic, photosynthetic residue, algae, permanent bubble, hexagon patch freed from its soccer ball, anthropod corpse. All attached to the swan in its idiot float in its stagnant little inland sea.) Swans eat tadpoles. A swan will slurp up entire schools of larval amphibians, process them and shit them out, and sometimes then it will sit in the shit or walk through it, and here we are. Anyone who claims that a swan is a majestic and noble creature has never seen a swan up close or smelled its bacterial purge. Swans will attack you if you are nearing their young or their nest, if you are trying to have a conversation with their mate. They have jagged points on their beak which resemble teeth but more closely resemble a plumber's saw, which plumbers call a Tiny Tim. If you try to take a swan's picture he will strike you with his beak. Too much attention enrages a swan. The swan has a long neck and will strike at you. The swan will bite you and tear your flesh. Swans mate for life, which is maybe 10 or 15 years. Someone found a swan once that was 24 years old and probably it was mating for life, which everyone made a big deal out of even though the swan was not even old enough to rent a car. The swan wasn't old enough to silently hyperventilate in bed. The swan didn't have a bed. The swan was too stupid to have a bed and if it did it would fill the bed with swan shit. That's all for today about swans. |
| Slartibartfast Lunkwill <slartibartfastlunkwill@gmail.com>: Jan 12 10:56PM -0800 Miracles by Lucy Corin WE WATCHED OUR FATHER take the jar out to the patio on the day we had been waiting for since he put the spider into it with its egg sac. It was a black widow spider which we knew never to touch in the garden and to know by the red bow on its belly. We'd been living in the country since our stark raving mad mother started calling the apartment from her orbit. Our father lay down near the jar, on his side. He was always showing us stuff around the farm. He was growing a beard, always tired and patient. There was a barn with a horse in it we were taking care of. He said a lot about learning to take care of others as a part of growing up, and we watched him with eyes too big for our heads. We gathered around the jar and put our noses to it in turn, looking for the movement he said to look for in the egg sac, how you could see it was time by shadows crossing. We were getting a little bored when the babies started to come out, just like he said. They were smaller than anything, and the big mother spider, you couldn't tell if she was paying attention. The babies were spreading out over the inside of the jar, the miracle of life. They were making their ways to the air holes punched in the lid. Our father just watched and commented for our benefit. He put a stick to an air hole and we watched babies crawl up it. Spiders crawl their whole lives. We watched, but some of our attention wandered. We were new to the countryside, new life surrounding us. I remember a lot of things from that place besides this. After the apocalypse, a brother of mine said, "Do you remember if you were nervous with all those poison spiders radiating from the jar? Do you remember that we didn't have any insect spray because we'd just moved out there but he had a can of hairspray and that's what he sprayed on them, just as they were getting away? Why did we have hairspray? Was it hers?" |
| Slartibartfast Lunkwill <slartibartfastlunkwill@gmail.com>: Jan 12 10:54PM -0800 Sticks by George Saunders Every year Thanksgiving night we flocked out behind Dad as he dragged the Santa suit to the road and draped it over a kind of crucifix he'd built out of metal pole in the yard. Super Bowl week the pole was dressed in a jersey and Rod's helmet and Rod had to clear it with Dad if he wanted to take the helmet off. On the Fourth of July the pole was Uncle Sam, on Veteran's Day a soldier, on Halloween a ghost. The pole was Dad's only concession to glee. We were allowed a single Crayola from the box at a time. One Christmas Eve he shrieked at Kimmie for wasting an apple slice. He hovered over us as we poured ketchup saying: good enough good enough good enough. Birthday parties consisted of cupcakes, no ice cream. The first time I brought a date over she said: what's with your dad and that pole? and I sat there blinking. We left home, married, had children of our own, found the seeds of meanness blooming also within us. Dad began dressing the pole with more complexity and less discernible logic. He draped some kind of fur over it on Groundhog Day and lugged out a floodlight to ensure a shadow. When an earthquake struck Chile he lay the pole on its side and spray painted a rift in the earth. Mom died and he dressed the pole as Death and hung from the crossbar photos of Mom as a baby. We'd stop by and find odd talismans from his youth arranged around the base: army medals, theater tickets, old sweatshirts, tubes of Mom's makeup. One autumn he painted the pole bright yellow. He covered it with cotton swabs that winter for warmth and provided offspring by hammering in six crossed sticks around the yard. He ran lengths of string between the pole and the sticks, and taped to the string letters of apology, admissions of error, pleas for understanding, all written in a frantic hand on index cards. He painted a sign saying LOVE and hung it from the pole and another that said FORGIVE? and then he died in the hall with the radio on and we sold the house to a young couple who yanked out the pole and the sticks and left them by the road on garbage day. In the contributor's notes in "Story" magazine, George Saunders writes, "For two years I'd been driving past a house like the one in the story, imagining the owner as a man more joyful and self-possessed and less self-conscious than myself. Then one day I got sick of him and invented his opposite, and there was the story." |
| Slartibartfast Lunkwill <slartibartfastlunkwill@gmail.com>: Jan 12 10:54PM -0800 LIKABLE DEB OLIN UNFERTH from NOON, issue 12 She could see she was becoming a thoroughly unlikable person. Each time she opened her mouth she said something ugly, and whoever was nearby liked her a little less. These could be strangers, these could be people she loved, or people she knew only slightly whom she had hoped would one day be her friends. Even if she didn't say anything, even if all she did is seem a certain way, have a look on her face, or make a soft sound of reaction, it was always unlikable—except in the few cases that she fixed herself on being likable for the next four seconds (more than that was impossible) and sometimes that worked, but not always. white Why couldn't she be more likable? What was the problem? Did she just not enjoy the world anymore? Had the world gotten away from her? Had the world gotten worse? (Maybe, probably not. Or probably in some ways but not in the ways that were making her not like it). Did she not like herself? (Well, of course she didn't, but there was nothing new in that.) white Or had she become less likable simply by growing older—so that she might be doing the same thing she always did, but because she was now forty-one, not twenty, it had become unlikable because any woman doing something at forty-one is more unlikable than a woman doing it at twenty? And does she sense this? Does she know she is intrinsically less likable and instead of resisting, does she lean into it, as into a cold wind? Maybe (likely) she used to resist, but now she sees the futility, so each morning when she opens her mouth she is unlikable, proudly so, and each evening before sleep she is unlikable, and each day it goes on this way, she getting more unlikable by the hour, until one morning she will be so unlikable, inconveniently unlikable, that she will have to be shoved into a hole and left there. |
| Slartibartfast Lunkwill <slartibartfastlunkwill@gmail.com>: Jan 12 10:53PM -0800 Five Stories Lydia Davis The Mice Mice live in our walls but do not trouble our kitchen. We are pleased but cannot understand why they do not come into our kitchen where we have traps set, as they come into the kitchens of our neighbors. Although we are pleased, we are also upset, because the mice behave as though there were something wrong with our kitchen. What makes this even more puzzling is that our house is much less tidy than the houses of our neighbors. There is more food lying about in our kitchen, more crumbs on the counters and filthy scraps of onion kicked against the base of the cabinets. In fact, there is so much loose food in the kitchen I can only think the mice themselves are defeated by it. In a tidy kitchen, it is a challenge for them to find enough food night after night to survive until spring. They patiently hunt and nibble hour after hour until they are satisfied. In our kitchen, however, they are faced with something so out of proportion to their experience that they cannot deal with it. They might venture out a few steps, but soon the overwhelming sights and smells drive them back into their holes, uncomfortable and embarrassed at not being able to scavenge as they should. The Outing An outburst of anger near the road, a refusal to speak on the path, a silence in the pine woods, a silence across the old railroad bridge, an attempt to be friendly in the water, a refusal to end the argument on the flat stones, a cry of anger on the steep bank of dirt, a weeping among the bushes. Odd Behavior You see how circumstances are to blame. I am not really an odd person if I put more and more small pieces of shredded kleenex in my ears and tie a scarf around my head: when I lived alone I had all the silence I needed. Fear Nearly every morning, a certain woman in our community comes running out of her house with her face white and her overcoat flapping wildly. She cries out, "Emergency, emergency," and one of us runs to her and holds her until her fears are calmed. We know she is making it up; nothing has really happened to her. But we understand, because there is hardly one of us who has not been moved at some time to do just what she has done, and every time, it has taken all our strength, and even the strength of our friends and families too, to quiet us. Lost Things They are lost, but also not lost but somewhere in the world. Most of them are small, though two are larger, one a coat and one a dog. Of the small things, one is a certain ring, one a certain button. They are lost from me and where I am, but they are also not gone. They are somewhere else, and they are there to someone else, it may be. But if not there to someone else, the ring is, still, not lost to itself, but there, only not where I am, and the button, too, there, still, only not where I am. |
| Slartibartfast Lunkwill <slartibartfastlunkwill@gmail.com>: Jan 12 10:48PM -0800 White Arab Colotis vestalis ''Colotis vestalis'', the white Arab, is a small butterfly of the family Pieridae, that is, the yellows and whites, which is found in India, Pakistan, Iran, Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan, Kenya and Tanzania. It has a wingspan of 4–5cm |
| Slartibartfast Lunkwill <slartibartfastlunkwill@gmail.com>: Jan 12 10:49PM -0800 I am a white arab, and i think i am smart since i have also invented many scalable algorithms and algorithms. |
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