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Farool
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My favorite myth? I must say that Gilgamesh has always been very appealing to me. Actually, that's a filthy lie. I only really like Gilgamesh because the name Enkidu makes me giggle, which it does sometimes. So scratch that one... I guess the next ones would be the myths on Sesame Street. A myth is just a fictitious thing, after all. My personal favorite would be the one where Bert is comparing himself to Ernie, and they come to the conclusion that all people are equal. Welp, this is fictitious for a couple reasons. Firstly, it's just not true. Secondly, I don't want to be considered equal, much less, compared to, to a sock puppet. Or muppet. Whatever. Thirdly, I like to think of myself as a little better than the cookie monster. We won't talk about him anymore. But then again, that sounds awfully emo, and scream-o, so we'll half scratch that one. You're not supposed to find out how cynical i am and depressed i am and all of that jazz. Back to muppets and their unhealthy addiction to baked goods. It would be nice if we were all created equal, but we just aren't. Don't mind me, I'm just crying wolf. Anyways, let's scratch the muppet myth. My next favorite myth? Okies, this is the myth of the foo bird, it's a little uncommon, so I'll tell it to you. There are these three cast-aways that got marooned on an island, and they find the islanders and make nice. The first thing that the islanders tell them is to beware of the foo bird, a local avian menace (lots of avarice too), and that if the foo bird excretes fecal matter on any of them, that they are NOT to wash it off. The first day that the newbies are in the village one of them gets pooped on by the dreaded foo bird (avian avarice, remember?). He figures that the villagers are just superstitious, so at night he runs down to the beach and washes it off. He explodes. The other two-castaways are really scared now, so they're watching out. A month or so later and another one of the castaways experiences the bird's bowel movement in a bad kind of way. He lasts for a couple moths, and then one night he just can't take it anymore, he runs to the beach and washes it off. He explodes too. The last guy is really scared. Naturally, as myths go, the bird ends up taking a dump on him and he lasts longer than the other two. Four years to be exact, but he ends up washing it off by accident, and he explodes. Moral of the myth? If the foo shits, wear it. Har dee har. But no, really, wouldn't it be awesome if we had some sense of security? Some sense of continuity? Living a linear life? Security that we know what's gonna happen next. If we knew how the world worked, and it was that simple. The cast-aways would have been fine if they didn't wash that stuff off. Who knows, they mighta lived forever. What DOES happen when a joke loses it's punchline? Bah, there I go being cynical again. To sum up everything (AKA, if you're just skimming through this, this is where you start actually reading), I'm cynical and deep enough to look for deeper meanings and things. There's symbolism in everything, there's a story behind everything, we don't know everything. Put all that together and life is a myth. For life though? I prefer to think of that as a ninja in a room full of millions of samurai. There's gonna be a lot of hurt going around, and we can't beat the ninja, so we might as well take it.
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060827
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