A Distressingly Vulgar Letter From Valentines Day

As valentines day draws near; so to begins the skeptical monologues of various sanctimonious individuals who feel that the holiday is a sham because (1) It has become too commercialized; (2) You shouldn't just pick one day to show someone you love them, you should do all year long and so on and so forth. In any case, so to afford Valentines Day it's day in court (so to speak) and because I have always been prone to writing letters to abstract and intangible concepts like love, free will and our immediate past president (say what you will. I'm still convinced that she's one of my past imaginary friends who faked her death and went rogue). However, this time around; to my utter surprise I found this morning the riposte of our dear Mr. Valentines Day. Why? A quick reading of its letter would lend us the answer vis-a-vis his intentions. It can be gleaned therefrom that his message was prodded by his desire to preserve his reputation and presumably, also by a lot of liquor. With that being said, for the benefit (or detriment) of all mankind, I present to you the absolutely drunken letter of valentines day:

....

Dear Mankind,

It's me, Valentines Day. I hear that you have some grievances regarding my day. I find that regrettable as I've always had the best of intentions. To be honest, I would probably apologize profusely for the your disappointment in me, I would, were it not for the fact that I have better words to convey my actual sentiments and it is this.. Fuck you! You fucking pretentious pricks! To be honest, I've been taking your crap for years and the only reason I'm writing this letter long overdue is because I've had enough. THAT and the fact that I ate two pounds worth of rum-filled chocolates. Those things aside, I just want to yell shut the fuck up you fucking dickheads. You've got some balls talking shit about me you self-righteous pigs. You tell me I am too commercialized, I'm a sham, I've lost integrity. Then some of you "pious" romantics tell me that I am pointless as you shouldn't give love just on one day. Well Fuck you.

To all you cynics out there who think I have lost meaning simply because a couple of greedy bastards decided to make a quick buck by selling cards, chocolate and flowers; let me tell you this: Get the fuck of your fucking high horse you fucking assholes. You think I had a choice in this matter? You think I like watching those cheap cardboard printouts with those pictures of midgets in diapers that they try to pass off as baby angels Do you think I even get cent from those fucking card companies? Fuck no. But you know what the sad part is? It's that you completely miss the fucking point. Do you honestly think, that the my integrity, the integrity of valentines day is compromised simply because people but those shit? Given, everything has just gotten a bit cliche but so what? The integrity of valentine days relies not on the gestures of man but the willingness of man to make a gesture. The essence lies in the heart, and as long as the sincerity of the man who expresses his love on valentines day remains pure, then valentines remains earnest even if he had to buy the a bouquet that's worth more than his watch. Do you really think that everybody is damn stupid? Do you really think it eludes the people's observation that on this single day, flower prices are hiked up by 500 percent? No it does not. People DO notice. The only thing stupid thing here is your ignorance. It does not matter even if every guy in the world buys the exact same card with exact same words and give the exact same box of chocolates. Because the truth is, valentines exists only between the two people that celebrate it, to the exclusion of everyone else. Even if every person in the world is using my day just to get laid, as long as there are two people in this world that celebrate it in the earnest belief that they are doing so in the honest expression their love then valentines day remains true to them. I remain sincere to people so long as they celebrate with sincerity. THAT, you fucking ignoramuses is the essence of my day. And your jaded cards, your cheap ass chocolates, and your overpriced flowers take nothing from my honesty. So shut the fuck up.

Now to all you lunatics there who claim that I am unnecessary insofar as you adhere to the belief that love should be celebrated and shown everyday, well to you as well I say: fuck you. Who the fuck ever told you that just because people have set a date on which they collectively profess their love in an exceptional manner that it would preclude any other form of romantic expression on the other days? By all means, if you so desire buy her a long stem rose every day and buy her an expensive dinner every night if you so wish (good luck with that). You are not compelled to celebrate your love on valentines day anymore than you are prohibited to do so on other days. By analogy, that's just about as absurd as saying we shouldn't celebrate our birthdays because we should be grateful for being alive everyday and not jut on your day of birth. The only real difference in assigning a date to it is that by making it a holiday, it gives people an excuse to remove their inhibitions and profess their love in ways they desire to profess it but are only restrained from doing so due to the norms of society. Valentines day gives them the opportunity to express themselves in ways that normal days would never allow them to do out of fear or embarrassment. And don't you even start saying that true love shouldn't be embarrassed, or shouldn't wait for an excuse to go all mushy and nutty in public. YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT TO TELL ANYONE WHAT IS LOVE AND HOW TO LOVE.. so before you even try say anything so audacious, shut the fuck up.

For the most part, a lot of you are fucking hypocrites. You come here, whining like a bunch of pussies when in fact, most of you are just lonely, don't have a date, have a boyfriend/girlfriend but who's not into the mushy stuff or you're probably just douches who want to hate on me for the fucking sake of. For a lot of you, when you really do manage to find someone who would be willing to celebrate valentines with you; you're all swoon and aaauuuhhh... you make me sick you hypocritical bastards. Fuck you to hell.

Up yours (sincerely),

Valentines Day

P.S. seriously, fuck you to hell....

My Review of The McGangBang, KFC's Doubledown Burger and the Antichrist

Let me level with you here.
There has never been a point in human history when we were able to prove sufficiently the existence of God. Even assuming that we are able to prove that He exists (Which kinda fucks up the whole faith-based religion thing we've got going on) odds are; He already abandoned us a long time ago for the sick and shitty things that we as a race have managed to do, like: Slavery, nailing His Son on a damn cross and Windows Vista.

GOD: "YOU ASSHOLES!"

Even assuming further that His magnanimous character would allow Him to overlook all that, if He hasn't up and went by then, He probably would have considering the recent development in fastfood industry which spewed out:

1. The McGangBang



The McGangBang is a relatively simple concept. Basically, you get yourself McDonald's double cheese burger (or a McDouble), get a McChicken or if you're in the Philippines and feeling cheap a Crispy Chicken Sandwich. You open up the McDouble, and right between the two patties you shove that Chicken sandwich in there and voila, presto bingo watchamafuckit- a McGangBang.

As you read this in plain text, you might think that this little fuck doesn't seem like a big deal. But it is there you are wrong my sweet little spiderchipmunkey - so wrong. I recall my first encounter the McGangBang and it was not a pleasant
experience. Of course, rumors have long passed about how it was a soulless beast of a sandwich and how eating it would ensure eternity in hell watching reruns of The Last Airbender - the movie. But I had always been among the braver of my peers and I dared to challenge these rumors.

I entered McDonalds in the same way I enter all popular fastfood joints, with guns fucking blazing. The people have gotten used to it actually and made no motion to acknowledge my entrance. I walked in with a callous demeanor and casually shoved an old lady to the ground as I took her place in line, throwing in a Clint Eastwood accent as I told her, "Lady, the architecture doesn't like you... Not one bit". As I began to make my order, I made an easy wave to some guy in the far right table so that the girl taking my order would think I was with someone and not just some fat douche ordering two kinds of burger for himself. Upon receiving the ingredients to the atrocity I was about to make, I quickly found myself a dark corner in the restaurant where I would perfect the unholy union shielded from the eyes of fragile spirited men. I will take no pains in narrating the emotionally scarring experience of how I did this, so allow me to speak of what happened right after it was done. Upon completion, I took a step back and marvel at the success of my creation. I thought to myself, "It doesn't seem so bad. It doe - OH MY FUCKING GOD!", it hit me, it took an actual second but it hit me. I was naked. So absolutely naked. I felt that I had eaten from the forbidden tree and now saw the universe as it was. I was overwhelmed. I was blown away. I was scared. As I took in what it was that I had created, I realized that this "thing" was never meant to be created. Given this realization, I hastily took the necessary steps to dispose of it - I began eating.

To say that it was a horrible experience would be an understatement. It was good. It was damn good. It so good that every fiber of conscience in my body seemed to reject it. But I carried on - for science. I finished it; and although I felt like I was less human after the experience, I survived. To be quite honest, I've been through worse. I've seen Kazaam.

Angels died when this movie was released

How I wish it was just a bit more emotionally disturbing though. Maybe then, I would never have had the audacity to try...

2. KFC's Double-Down Burger


The double-down just came to the Philippines and I was giddy with glee. The moment I saw it on television in a commercial I made no hesitation and broke into song, followed by the determination to conquer this monstrosity that seemed less sandwich and more whatthefuckinghellisthat. My previous success in walking away from the McGangBang not entirely soulless had inspired me to take on this entity that people have begun saying is the reincarnation of Hitler. I mean, how much different could it have been? I was wrong. How wrong was I? I was internet wrong.

Picture this scene ladies and frogs, a handful of KFC patrons casually eating their wimpy original recipe chickens when suddenly, a gust of wind slammed the glass doors opens. They had to shield their eyes with their hands from the sudden bright light as they made out the vague silhouette of man whose eyes shone with the fiery of chuck norris' poodle. I walked in at a pace slower than baywatch, I knocked off the snow from my boots and with a maddened stare proclaimed, "I'm here for the Double Down". I was greeted with shocked silence. I wasn't sure their stunned expressions were due to my bold declaration or due to wonder as to where the hell had I gotten snow on me in the Philippines on a hot October day. I gave no moment to the thought. I walked forward and ordered myself a double-down, not even asking if there was anybody else who had eaten one of these little bastards before me. It was never about being the one to eat it first, the question was who could walk away with a speck of humanity left after. I didn't.
I admit, it's appearance had intimidated me before much more than the McGangBang. One sight of this "sandwich" is enough to lead you to the conclusion that it was borne from the armpits of Satan himself. You are wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for the first bite, coupled with the realization that not even Satan himself is capable of producing such an abomination. I had made a miscalculation. Due to my partial success with the McGangBang, I had overlooked one core difference between them. At one point in time, the McGangBang had not always been evil. The McDouble was a good sandwich and the McChicken was once innocent as well. It was their union that corrupted them. But because of this, there is still a semblance of good in the McGangBang. The Double-Down is different. There was never a time through its existence that it resembled anything remotely good. From its inception to its consumption the Double-Down was always and will always be an existence that existence should never allow.

I realized this too late. I was empty. My soul was mutilated beyond redemption. I began to speculate that the Double-down was KFC's first weapon in the attempt to conquer hell, but I lost that train of thought. Because it didn't matter. I was left with an existential numbness that left me with an expression that can only be described as similar to Kristin Stewart's facial expression/attempt-at-acting in Twilight.

Pictured: Double-Down Syndrome

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am not a happy man. But bitter pain would be a welcome feeling next to this sheer emptiness that surrounds my being. For this reason, I have to apologize, because in my attempt to escape this soundless prison called a meaningless existence, I dared to undo reality by creating the Antichrist; otherwise known as what I call

3. THE McWHATTHEFUCK

It took me sometime to think up the manner in which I would release myself (and the rest of humanity) from this giant caged called reality as it would involve some serious meta-physical shit that I am in no way equipped to perform. But then it hit me, how did I get here in the first place? At that instant, everything became simple. I would create a being so vile and so abominous (I made that word up) that existence rather than expelling this entity would itself fuck itself to avoid acknowledging it. That is when I though of combining the McGangBang and the Double-Down to create the McWhatthefuck

I tried to take pictures but this is the only image
that would come out

The process was relatively simple, I would create a McGangBang but instead of lodging a McChicken between the patties, I would place the Double-down there.

As I opened the McDouble, I could feel a strong tremor shaking the whole earth, thunderstorms brewed atop the restaurant as the universe waited in anticipation of the horror I was about to commit. As I began to move the Double-down and complete the union, the winds howled loudly as I heard the banging of fists against the windows, zombies seemed to appear out of nowhere and attempting to breach the restaurant. It was the universe, breaking its own rules in its last feeble attempt at self-preservation. The rapping on the glass grew stronger, I could hear in the distance the sound Keanu Reeves being ripped to shreds by what I hope are transvestites. The lights went out. The people around me had all dropped dead. Each one rising slowly as a reanimated corpse. I took no heed. And in a last gesture of defiance, I flicked my finger at the sky and perfected the ghastly matrimony. I created the McWhatTheFuck. At that moment, a bright flash filled the room and when my vision returned everything seemed to return back to normal. I could still hear the horde of zombies outside the restaurant though, but then I realized that they had always been there since Obama became president of the US. I felt different though. It was like a heavy burden was lifted from my shoulders, it was though the tangles of reality did not... well... entangle me anymore. But what could have brought upon this change.?Then I looked across the street to see that Kristin Stewart was holding what could only be an Oscar Trophy. I dropped my gun which I now realize I've been holding the whole time. There was only one possible explanation for this; and it is that...

I killed God. I fucking killed God. In some significant philosophical way that I'm not sure is entirely true, the creation of the McWhatTheFuck must have eradicated his existence or some philosophical shit like that. I looked down, the McWhatTheFuck was still there, it looked innocent now. Dare I take a bite? What kind of Ungodly powers would I attain? Will we ever be rid of twilight? All very good questions. All to be answered in space.

Seeing Ghosts in Beautiful Places

"The shade was right and the sun's rays refracted against a thousand leaves to leave a gentle glow. What heat managed to penetrate was brushed away by the perfect breeze. "

You'd think that there was no place on earth as perfect as this. But there are; countless of beautiful sceneries, each of which the majesty of its view is only rivaled by the seeming perfection of the moment. Luckily, of the millions of patches of heaven on earth that exist on our planet, this summer has allowed me visit to a few. Probably far from the most beautiful by the world's ranking, but breathtaking nonetheless. It's hard to imagine how anything could take away the feeling of the perfect moment when I am here. But I can easily imagine what it would take to do the impossible and improve upon this perfection - and it is if you were here.

It first came far from the city, we were headed towards a place of which the name at first seemed doubtful. It was called a farm, so my hopes weren't high as I expected some sort of plantation. Little did I expect the grandeur that awaited me as I found myself treated to one of the most exquisite places I have been to. It was s beautiful place, well developed. There was a small lake (if you could call it that) in the middle of the scenery and a small boat at the end of a small little pier was open. I climbed aboard, and rowed myself around. It was in that moment as I took in the ambiance of serenity did I see you, and I imagined your dimpled smile when you were right in front of me, as we shared this moment together. Perhaps it was my desire to be dramatic or perhaps my moment of being neurotic, that made me drop the oars for a moment and reached out to grab this vision of you, only to have you disappear like smoke between my fingers. As I docked myself back to dry land, I saw a tall tree house, and as I climbed its spiral stairway, I could see you at the top, goading me to come top quicker to see the view. Of course I obliged, only to be disappointed when reaching the very top, as I enjoyed that view alone. Along that afternoon, I would see you in every corner of that place where I could imagine us posing for the perfect picture. I could imagine all to well. By the end of that visit, I had all but chased this vision so vivid, that only to preserve my dignity and belief in my sanity do I hesitate to call it a hallucination. As we left the "farm" this ghost teased me one more time as I saw it gesture for me to take her hand. My mind told me to stop this. But my heart had me reach for it anyway - yet again only to disappear and leaving me with a clenched empty hand.

And until that day came to end, I would see ghosts of you in every beautiful place that I came across. Probably spawned from my desire to share these places and these moments with you. I saw you by the red tree at the butterfly farm. I saw you you dip your legs in the floating cottages of lake danao. And finally, I saw you lean against my arm in the car as we went home, you were exhausted from our day in beautiful places.


.....
"My love. I have long realized that my life would not end if you're not in it. But that doesn't change the fact that it would be so much better if you were"
....

The Parable of the Game

(Excerpted from Against Ethics by John D. Caputo, pp. 134-137. Author unknown, but listed fictionally as Felix Sineculpa)

In the beginning was Being, and Being was unimaginably black and dense. Being clung to Being without void or division, without light or manifestness. Being was without non-Being, undivided, without difference or otherness. Resting within itself, in perfect concentration and self-identity, Being was wholly gathered to itself, altogether without strife or movement.

But Being was unable to keep this pact with itself, unable to retain its almost perfect self-compactness, unable to contain itself within itself. Accordingly, the aboriginal unity burst asunder in an explosion that cannot be measured by the laws of physics because it was of such aboriginality as to antedate the laws of physics.

In an event that is older than time, in accord with laws that are older than law, in a world that antedates the cosmic order, Being swirled outward in vast concentric rings, forming a vast, smooth, seamless sea. Swirling around and around, sweeping and circling, the vast sea at length began to differentiate and divide itself, to cluster here and there in spectacular arrangements, thickening here and thinning there, producing space and multiplicity from out of itself.

After a stretch of time for whose measurement we lack the measure, after a time that produced time, Being had become a flowing movement, racing outward in every direction, more Becoming than Being. After a time for which there is no clock, the swirl of events had settled into certain regular patterns. These patterns, which It had itself produced, would come to be called laws, though they are not the laws Being obeyed but the laws Being produced, the patterns of its drift, the lines and directions Being forged when It first loosened its grip on itself.

The aboriginal energy of Being's great beginning, of the great dense blackness, was now redistributed across multiple centers of energy, divided into innumerable smaller clusterings and configurations of forces, into events that competed endlessly with one another in a great cosmic Game. The forces vied with one another for supremacy in endless strive, the weaker forces succumbing to the stronger, the stronger forces themselves falling before forces stronger still, the whole growing strong from the struggle of all with all.

Being had become a Great Game.

There was no meanness in Being, no ill will, no will at all, and hence no guilt. There were only the various victories and defeats, all of which belonged to the same vast economy, the one great innocent Game, which did not add or subtract an iota from the whole. Growing larger and stronger and concentrated in one place took place at the expense of growing smaller and weaker and more dissipated elsewhere; forces declined here but grew stronger there. But it was all good sport, all part of the perfect innocence of the Game, of the round dance of events, of the Game that Being, which had become a play, played with itself, without rancor or sorrow.

The play was without care. When one force went under, that was a part of the total economy of forces, the justice of the whole. The whole was just, just because there was no justice of an invidious sort. The play was all and all was just. This was a justice without equality, a justice of unrestricted giving and taking, going over and going under, augmenting and declining, in a total economy without loss. If Being robbed and stole from itself in one place, it was only in order to give and restore to itself in another. If some forces lived off others as predators, that was only in order to allow certain forces to shine with beauty and splendor and so to justify the whole. Coming to be and passing away, in incessant becoming and strife, the whole played the innocuous Game, an innocent war, a war without victims or injustice.

There is nothing unjust in the little victories that the forces win, nothing unfair in their harshness with one another, nothing cruel in their little contests. Being itself is not cruel or benevolent; it is without good will or bad; It is without any will at all unless the forces themselves constitute an army of little wills , of multiple micro-willings and strivings, struggling with one another in endless, innocent war games. But war is the father of the events and it bears no ill will toward its own offspring.

The Game was really quite beautiful in those days. It had made itself beautiful by making itself over into a beautiful swirling dance, a magnificent pageantry of lights, of battles and clashing swords whose sparks illuminated their play, whose thunderous noise filled the air with the music of their play. Everything was charged with the energy of the Game, everything laughed with the exuberance of the events as they danced and played. The forces glowed with beauty, going over and going under in a brilliant display of power and energy and good health.

When long ago--although countless aeons after commencement of the Great Game--in a far-off corner of the universe, naked men wrestled under the shining Aegean sun, their luminous forms matched in contests that tested them to the limit, it was as if the Game had forged an image of itself. It must have seemed to them that Being had cleared a space for itself in which It could present itself as It is in itself, in which It could celebrate itself and shine in naked radiance. Once long ago, there was a time and a place where it seemed as if the Great Game found words to express itself, temples to enshrine itself, a language and a people to call its own., where all its wondrous beauty could find a home. It must have seemed that the Game gave itself with a marvelous generosity that made the people--its people, its own people--who celebrated the games rise up in wonder.

At length, one of the forces drew up lame, no doubt too much abused by the harshness of the Game. It soon became weak and ill and seeing how the other forces prospered in the play it withdrew within itself and became quite ugly. It curled around itself and hissed its tongue. It grew black and filled itself with vile humors; it became sullen and sneaky, malicious and humorless, and it began to smell quite bad too so that it was not pleasant to be around. Instead of singing and dancing, it began to crawl and lay traps. It crept across the surface of the other forces, leaving behind a gossamer net in which the forces would get themselves trapped and become themselves sick and motionless. It grew more and more angry and spiteful and filled itself with seething feelings of rancor ill will toward everything that flourished so in the Game.

"The Game is evil," the sick forces hissed. "War is a cruel father. Going under and going over are unjust. More and less, stronger and weaker are unfair. Becoming is unjust. Life itself, for life is becoming, is unjust. Movement is wicked and causes pain. Be still. Pain and suffering are a refutation." "Evil, unjust, unfair, negation, stop, no": large, black, bloated words crawled into the throats of the healthy forces and choked them, suffocating them, making them ill. This was a very cunning stratagem on the part of the lame forces, cunning and clever. For they had found a way, despicable though it might be, to win at the Game, a way to undo the healthy, dancing, stronger forces. They had invented a fiction for themselves that served their interests well. The lame had invented a way to make the healthy forces trip, to trap them in their web and then poison them with their fatal bite. That was very shrewd. They had invented a way to cope with the Great Game, but it was a base and mean way, which cursed the Game.

This was a bad time, but it was only a time, a short time, and it had to pass away. The Game has all the time it needs, for Being produces time and Being suffers no loss that It cannot regain in time. The Great Game that Being plays, indeed which Being is, cannot experience defeat. The Game is itself made up of victors and vanquished but It cannot itself as a whole be defeated or suffer a loss. Being plays on and on, swirling and rolling, configuring itself now this way, now that, in an endless innocent cosmic dance.

Soon enough, the sick, twisted ugly, ill-smelling forces would themselves submit to their cosmic fate, would themselves go under according to the rule of the Game which governs the events, which rules over everything that happens, everything that comes to be and everything that passes away. Soon enough, the little bit of cosmic dust on which the sick forces made their home would vanish. For it too had been spun off by the Great Swirl and was no more than an infinitesimal speck that revolved around a tiny little star in a distant, wholly insignificant galaxy far off in a remote corner of the Great Swirl.

"War is evil," the sick little forces shouted from the surface of their tiny little spot of space, their hands cupped to their twisted little mouths. The Game laughed and danced another round. "Murder is unjust," the sick forces shouted all the more loudly, growing even more infuriated at Being's insouciance. But the game gave no answer. Being laughs and dances, plays and frolics, rolls and swirls in great cosmic sweeps--but It does not listen. It gives, but It does not hear. It has no ears to hear. There is no one there, no one to listen. The Game does not know the forces are there. It does not know them at all, does not care to know them, does not care at all. Indeed one could speak of the Game's great stupidity, its great, stupid swirl. It plays because It plays, without why.

So long after the sick forces perished, for aeons and aeons, the Game continued its mighty swirl. The venomous black words disappeared without an echo, leaving behind not the slightest trace. All that remained was the laughter of the Game as It danced and played across an endless space.

2 Easy Steps to Cheat Your Way in to Heaven

Have you ever tried one of those "5 free and simple ways to earn money online" gimmicks? The ones where they tell you that after buying their product you'll be living filthy rich like a pimp who owns Megan Fox and a cloning machine? Only to find after you fork over your cash that when they said "5" they actually meant "50"; and when they said "simple" they actually meant "Simply frustrating" and when they said free they actually meant - not. Ladies and Gentlemen, unfortunately for you this is one of those kind of things. To be certain, there really is no 5 second solution for all your excessive sinning and moral perversity. What I do have however, is system that with a bit of effort, you can utilize to ascertain that you can go straight to heaven without having to suffer in purgatory. That's right - easy access. But like I said, it may take effort; so if you're the kind of lazy bum that would ignore anything any program that exceeds the 3 step mark than this isn't for you; but for those who are seriously into some major sinning and willing to sacrifice precious sinning time to ensure a seat in el paradiso than you can bet I'm your best friend. But first let's understand a couple of concepts:

I. SIN

The first thing you need to know is that there are two kinds of punishment to sin - eternal and temporal. The moment you commit a mortal sin, you incur eternal punishment, which basically means you will rot in hell for all eternity . Yep you read right, I shit you not; even committing one mortal sin is enough to keep you away forever. But fret not, eternal punishment is easily cure by the sacrament of reconciliation or going to confession; which then leaves you only to suffer temporal punishment. Basically temporal punishment is suffering in purgatory, you're stilling going to heaven but you need to do some time in limbo before you do. This is where this article comes in. I will be showing you how it is possible to skip the whole purgatory mess and the technique used is something called indul - wait for it - gence - indulgence. I will be explaining this in a bit but before that let's go to step one:

step 1: make sure to confess your sins after every major sinning spree. Don't worry, confession have no limits so feel free to sin some more afterward.

INDULGENCES


Now what are indulgences? They are a remission of your temporal punishments. Now how do they work and where do they come from? Well, the idea was; that due to the awesome sacrifices of saints here on earth, God gave the church a couple of holy coupons for it to give to individuals who the church deems worthy. Now at first, the catholic church had a finite amount of these indulgences. However, after the Sacrifice of the Big J-Christ, the church was granted an unlimited supply of these monopoly-like get-out-of-jail-free cards, which they now take from what is called the the "Treasure House of Merits" (Props for the awesome name)

And that ladies and gents is your next and final step

step 2: Get an indulgence


...

That is your two step program my friends on how to cheat your way into heaven. Now before you get all huffy I'm going to give you some bonus material just because I like you. Now there are several ways to get you some sweet-ass indulgences and they are contained in a list which is awesome called the Enchiridion Indulgentiarum (Which kinda sounds like optimus prime's first cousin). Take not however that when i say indulgence i mean full or plenary indulgence, not that weak-ass partial kind. After all, it wouldn't be really a free pas if it's not completely free right?

Now the first and easiest way to get a full indulgence is by being lucky, there are times when the Vatican would send a global blessing called the Urbi et Orbi in which upon seeing or hearing it in your TV or radio (whether youtube counts or not is yet to be determined) you automatically get the free pass. Another is by taking part in one of those global religious like the World Youth Day and the sort. Also, if you're lucky enough to have a bishop as friend, he is allowed to give three plenary indulgences a year on Eucharistic occasions of his choice.

Now the problem with this occasion-attached indulgences is that we can't wait for them to come around while we're doing our sinning. Odds are, if you've read this far then you probably have some diabolical plans right now; diabolical plans that probably would incur the wrath of vigilantes or something. Given this, you might think: "I would be dead before I get indulged (is that the proper word?)". Wary not my friends because after combing through the Enchiridion Indulgentiarum, I have found that there is a 4 step/ two hour activity you can do at the end of everyday that would allow you plenary indulgences. I will enumarate:

1. Piously reading or listening to Sacred Scriptures for at least half an hour.
2. Adoration of Jesus in the Eucharist for at least half an hour.
3. The pious exercise of the Stations of the Cross
4. Recitation of the Rosary or the Akathist in a church or oratory, or in a family, a religious community, an association of the faithful and, in general, when several people come together for an honourable purpose

As you can see, by sacrificing a few hours of your time; you can yourself an easy pass to heaven.

SUMMARY:

Taking all this into consideration, I believe everything can be summarized into what I call the I-C-I Sinning System, an efficient patter of sinning that will allow you access to heaven without even going to purgatory. It's simple, first you indulge in sin (I), go to confession (C) and then get your self a plenary indulgence (I). Easy as pie.

FINAL WORDS:

Now, I am aware that some may be wary as to the applicability of all this. What if the system of indulgence is something that the church made up? What if upon presentation of your free heaven coupon at the pearly gates, you are denied entry? Rest assured ladies and gentlemen, even if the church did just come up with all this indulgence crap, heaven cannot deny your coupon. Because we have something called papal infallibility, which means that our pope (who created this awesome free pass system) can never be wrong. As Jesus told his rock “Amen I say to you, whatsoever you shall bind upon earth, it shall be bound in heaven …” (Matt. 18:18). This basically means, that whatever the Pope says, heaven has no choice but to follow. So they cannot possibly refuse you. Happy sinning.

A hopeless romantic in the modern world

"There was a time I used to sing

Of the arrows, the bows and cupid’s wings

There was a time I once believed

The epic stories the screens once weaved"

Yet as time had me passed by

And my mind and heart matured

I now ask, is love truly real?

Or am I just a victim of literature?

Was there really such a thing

As a love beyond the worth of gold?

Was it purely foolhardy fiction?

Or was it simply lost to the time of old?

Is it really out there?

This love that will forever last?

Is it found only in fairy tales?

Or was it only in the past?

And as I dwell in fickle loneliness

Naively wishing for my romantic fate

I find myself asking the question

Was I a fool or simply born too late?

Theories on Love

There is a point in everyone's life that the question comes to you, what is love really? I have asked many a man and woman to share with me the answer and each varies greatly from the next. Yet to my observance I have found that no person describes love - not better- but at least with more conviction and passion than the one has held it and lost it. It gives justice to the dictum that "you can never understand nor appreciate the light until you have dwelt in the darkness".

Yet despite the incongruity among responses a few general themes crop up. They are like different schools of thought in the science of defining love. Allow me to share four (although this may not be all of them) popular theories or at the very least hypotheses of what love is:

1. LOVE IS GIVING IT YOUR ALL

The concept: This school of thought postulates that to love someone means to forgo all else. Love is the only thing that really matters and it shall conquer all. It says that when you are truly in love you are able to put everything aside including (and in most matters, especially) your pride. It doesn't matter whether you might get rejected or not, all that matters is that you gave it your all so that you will have "no regrets" .

Characterized by: The martyr
The essential element: Unconditional sacrifice, stubborn perseverance

The real deal: It is mostly subscribed to by people in the unrequited love situation. People who persistently pursue other people who either hurt or reject them constantly use this to justify their stubborn unwillingness to give up which in itself is a form avoidance of the inevitable pain that awaits them. Why are they so unwilling to give up? Because they are afraid of regretting giving up and they are constantly haunted by the ever so frustrating "What if" mentality. They keep giving themselves a reason to hold on because they're afraid of being in a situation where they think "maybe if I held on just a little bit longer". But the trouble is, as they continue to waste their own lives running after (sometimes literally) people who, odds are, will never give in to them, their friends and family (and sometimes curious onlookers) will think that they are pathetic, petty and to be quite look like big losers. So this is where that theory comes useful, they will tell you that they this is what it means to be in love, that they are the way they are because they are truly in love. Basically to paraphrase, what they're telling you is, "it's not my fault I'm being pathetic it's love's. I am not a loser, love makes me into one because that's what love is; and anyone else who disagrees or does less than what I'm doing (gradually turning one's self into a glutton for punishment) has never "really" loved before.

2.LOVE IS A GIVE AND TAKE

The concept: Quid pro quo it says, to love someone and be loved someone and be loved in return is a joining of lives and a unity of identity. What was once two are now one. It takes more than one person to make it work, both must make sacrifices and both must take as must as he or she gives.

Characterized by: The negotiator
The essential element: Ability to Compromise

The real deal: This is the conception of more mature lovers or those who have settled down to a secure and functioning relationship. There's a reason why this definition is not resorted to single individuals; because if you adapt this definition and its function; you're odds of getting someone dramatically drops. In savage jungle that is singlehood, basic psychology gives two important words to go by: "impression management". Given the courting system we have, you have to impress your target and continuously demonstrate high value. So there always need to put your best foot forward until "it" finally happens (at which point you can begin slowly showing you're grotesquely deformed other foot forward). But really, it's a definition and system that works, but it's no easy feat. But behind the apparent mature and reasonable appearance of this definition is an underlying less gallant purpose. Like the "Give it all" advocates, the usage of this definition serves its own psychological justifying purpose as well. When you are in a relationship and lose a fight or just don't get things you want; this is the line you console yourself and your bruised ego with. Whether you lost once or or lose every single one of your disagreements, you hide the shame by telling yourself (and all others who witnessed your defeat), "love is a give or take. Love is not selfish"

3. TO LOVE IS TO CARE FOR ANOTHER MORE THAN YOURSELF

The concept: Love is not about acquisition or possession. It is not about being I am yours and you are mine. Rather it is the simple condition of desiring the happiness of another person more than your your own.

Characterized by: the ninja
The essential element: Absence of expectations (riiiight)

The real deal: This the best weapon of those who don't get the meaning of the word "no". It is the elegant and even effective comeback to your "I'm don't want to be with you. I'm sorry". Indeed it is an easy favorite for those who's love are unrequited. Just a couple of notches above "love means giving it your all"; it is the defense against those who look down upon you (including yourself) for continuing to pursue a person who is just not interested in you. Here's the best part about subscribing to this definition, you're not a loser if you bring her flowers, or do her homework, or pick her up everyday with your car even when she has told you (and probably all of her and your friends) that she has no interest in you whatsoever. Why? Because you have "no expectations. You're not trying to impress her or anything or bribe her with your gestures, Nooo; you do these things because you love her and just want to see her happy" (note: everything that fell within the quotation marks in the previous sentence is meant to be read in a sarcastic and mocking tone). At least this is what you convince yourself you're doing. But here's the kicker, once you do manage to convince someone that these are your intentions, you get to continue doing all the courting with her defenses lowered as she is convinced that you have no expectations and before you know it BAM! she' might just fall for you.

4. LOVE IS LOVE

The concept: Love is beyond explanation. Because each heart is unique and each heart beats a different kind love. Love is simply love. Love cannot be contained in words.

Characterized by: The agnostic
Essential element: Belief in the ineffability of love

The real deal: A lot of times, when at debate is the topic on love, people would often throw in saccharine quotes to help their cases. Ladies and gentlemen, "love is love" is the Swiss-knife of love quotes because it can serve a multitude of purposes. For the first part, it is a safe yet profound-sounding answer when a potential partner inquires from you on your views about love. Also, if you are bombarded with love advice from your friends to the point that it gets annoying, you can pull this definition out and hope it will shut them up. A lot of people subscribe to this definition simply because it seems unconventional, cool and impressive. But does anybody seriously subscribe to this definition and not just use it to serve their own purposes? yes. The people who are advocates of this school of thought are those who have tried the other definitions for whatever purpose and have it proven wrong to them, they have tried giving it their all, tried making compromises, tried NOT having expectations but to no avail, love eludes them still. And a point simply came in their lives, that they realize that no matter how romantic or epic a line or quote is, it can never fully explain love.



CONCLUSION:

Given these four theories; I have come to the realization that usually, when people try to define love they do so in the attempt to either justify or gratify something about themselves. And when you begin to think about it, that should actually be pretty obvious. I mean, what other purpose would attempting to define love serve? I say we stop trying to define love. Not because it cannot be defines but because one has to realize that at the end of the day, no matter what definition or theory you adhere to; all you need to do is just simply love.