03-20-2011, 10:09 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-20-2011, 10:56 PM by votadraibia.)
Solipsism
Ever heard of a philosophical movement known as solipsism? Basically, according to the solipsist, only he exists. Since his only mind is the only thing he knows to be truly real, nothing else is.
Actually, the logic follows quite nicely. If the senses are our only means of processing information, and the senses are ultimately unreliable, then everything in your head must be - and is the only - reality.
And that's where the unsettling implications start to come in. That thing under the bed, in the attic, that your parents told you is "all in your head?" Well, your parents are also "all in your head." Your sight, your only source of reasoning, so reassuring when you turn the lights on and gasp in relief when you see that nothing's there? All in your head.
The thing in the attic, however, is another story. You've never seen it, you've never heard it, you've never sensed it, but your body really wants your mind to believe that it's not there.
Now why might that be?
If Adventure Time actually did this, I wouldn't be suprised.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Adventure Time: Socrates' Wish (The Lost Episode)
You all probably know about the hit show "Adventure Time" on Cartoon Network. And you all probably saw the premiere...or you think you did.
I was awake in my living room, the time about 3:30 AM, watching TBS. I was surfing through the TV guide, when I came across a new episode of Adventure Time called "Socrates' Wish". I turned it to Cartoon Network, and the intro of the show was just finishing. I laid back in my seat, waiting for the newest episode.
What I saw was drastically unpleasant. It started out in the Candy Kingdom, Finn and Jake racing up to the doors. They burst through them, and I saw the Peppermint Butler's head bitten off by some sort of dragon. Blood squirted out from PB's neck, and the dragon saw Finn and Jake. He flew off.
The pair walk through the castle, seeing all sorts of Candy Kingdom citizens either dead or sitting up, smiling ominously. They walk past Cinnamon Bun, a sit-upper, when suddenly he grabs onto Jake. Finn tries to throw him off, but he is unsuccessful. Jake suddenly turns brown as squelching noises are heard as he falls out of view, as well as the screams of the dog. Finn, cautious, continues on.
He gets to the main part of the palace. Princess Bubblegum is seen sitting in her throne. "Oh, Finn, thank you for coming! All of my citizens have turned into zombies!" I could barely make this out: the audio was blurred a little. "Any time, Princess. I lost Jake on the way here...any way you could help him?" Audio blurred again. "Finn, we can't help the people in Japan, can we?" Finn steps closer. "Japan? What's--" Suddenly, the throne jolts around to find a green Princess Bubblegum with half of her body missing. All that's left is bones. She leaps at Finn, biting his head off gruesomely. Blood spatters out as Finn falls down, dead.
"Down With The Sickness" started to play as some candy zombies carried Jake and Finn's lifeless bodies outside. They throw them off of cliffs, then celebrate. Suddenly, they turn back to normal. Also as sudden, the ground turns into a pack of leeches. In fact, everything turned into leeches. The candy citizens were sucked into the pits of leeches, slowly dying. The scene faded to black, then white text came into view:
"THE ENCLOSED EPISODE OF ADVENTURE TIME HAS BEEN REMOVED FOR INAPPROPRIATE CONTENT BY THE US GOVERNMENT. PLEASE CONTINUE WATCHING YOUR REGULAR PROGRAMS ON CARTOON NETWORK."
It was a traumatic experience, for sure. I slowly went back to sleep, only to be woken up by my mother: it was time for the first day back at elementary school.
The Family Portait
Recently at the art gallery I work at they had a new exhibition for local artists. It was the usual sort of thing; substandard paintings that only got a shoe-in because they were from the local community, paintings of local people and places and so forth. It was my job to decide which paintings got put on display, which entailed me sorting through around a hundred of these awful excuses for art. There was one, though, that really caught my attention. Unlike the others it was not of a local scene or a local person; it was of a family. A father in a suit sitting in a chair, his dutiful wife behind him and his young son and daughter at his feet.
By the looks of their clothes they were from the 19th century, typically dressed for a middle class family of that period. Two things struck me about the painting; firstly the attention to detail and the quality of the artwork was impeccable (almost photogenic) and secondly was the shiver it sent down my spine. The people in the portrait had this eerie, gaunt look to them, and expressions that were so blank they looked almost dead. The painting had no artists name attached to it, and Molly from reception had said that she couldn’t recall anybody sending it in. I decided then that instead of putting the painting on display I would take it home with me; after all it had no name attached to it so nobody was going to miss it were they?
I got home and decided that I was going to hang it in my study, and after hanging it spent the rest of the night filing paperwork. Every so often I would find my eyes drawn to the painting. I felt the strangest, and most uncomfortable, sensation. I felt like the family in the painting were somehow judging me; like I could feel their eyes boring into me from the painting. What’s worse is that because they were staring at the painter (and therefore anybody who looked at the painting) their eyes seemed to follow me around the room. After a while I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned the painting against the wall and vowed that, no matter how interesting it was, I would return it to the gallery the next day. I got a hold of myself though, I had been working quite late and was very tired, and decided that I would sleep on it. I began to finish off the last of my filing at my desk. This was a bad idea; my eyes were heavy and before I knew it I had fallen asleep right there in the study.
That night my dreams were filled with visions of the painting. Over and over again all I dreamed about was that family staring at me from behind the canvas, drilling into my soul with their blank, visionless stares. With every dream they seemed to get more and more intense, until after a while their eyes were wide and they were giving me looks of such intense hatred that I thought they were about to kill me. After a while I snapped into awareness to find myself face to face with the painting, except this time instead of blank expressions I was faced with a hellish vision that will haunt me until I die. Their faces were twisted into looks of absolute malice. Their gaunt waxen skin was drawn taught across their pointed cheekbones, their lips peeled back across blackened gums to reveal gnarled yellow teeth bared in a bestial snarl. The less that was said about their bloodshot, protruding eyes the better. I screamed and fell off my chair, stumbling out the room, unable to turn and look back at the painting. I ran across the hallway and dived into my bed, burying my head under the covers.
The next morning when I woke up I was still terrified. I rationalized it to myself though; you were overtired and you had a night terror, the room was dark and both the shadows and your mind were trying to play tricks on you. I went about my usual routine unperturbed, comforted by the rational logic of my mind. I was about to go to work when I realized I had forgotten about the papers in the study. I opened the door to grab the papers but as soon as I set foot in the room my heart froze and my blood ran cold. The painting was still turned against the wall. Not only that, but my desk had not even been facing the painting to begin with; it was facing the window.
Ever heard of a philosophical movement known as solipsism? Basically, according to the solipsist, only he exists. Since his only mind is the only thing he knows to be truly real, nothing else is.
Actually, the logic follows quite nicely. If the senses are our only means of processing information, and the senses are ultimately unreliable, then everything in your head must be - and is the only - reality.
And that's where the unsettling implications start to come in. That thing under the bed, in the attic, that your parents told you is "all in your head?" Well, your parents are also "all in your head." Your sight, your only source of reasoning, so reassuring when you turn the lights on and gasp in relief when you see that nothing's there? All in your head.
The thing in the attic, however, is another story. You've never seen it, you've never heard it, you've never sensed it, but your body really wants your mind to believe that it's not there.
Now why might that be?
If Adventure Time actually did this, I wouldn't be suprised.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Adventure Time: Socrates' Wish (The Lost Episode)
You all probably know about the hit show "Adventure Time" on Cartoon Network. And you all probably saw the premiere...or you think you did.
I was awake in my living room, the time about 3:30 AM, watching TBS. I was surfing through the TV guide, when I came across a new episode of Adventure Time called "Socrates' Wish". I turned it to Cartoon Network, and the intro of the show was just finishing. I laid back in my seat, waiting for the newest episode.
What I saw was drastically unpleasant. It started out in the Candy Kingdom, Finn and Jake racing up to the doors. They burst through them, and I saw the Peppermint Butler's head bitten off by some sort of dragon. Blood squirted out from PB's neck, and the dragon saw Finn and Jake. He flew off.
The pair walk through the castle, seeing all sorts of Candy Kingdom citizens either dead or sitting up, smiling ominously. They walk past Cinnamon Bun, a sit-upper, when suddenly he grabs onto Jake. Finn tries to throw him off, but he is unsuccessful. Jake suddenly turns brown as squelching noises are heard as he falls out of view, as well as the screams of the dog. Finn, cautious, continues on.
He gets to the main part of the palace. Princess Bubblegum is seen sitting in her throne. "Oh, Finn, thank you for coming! All of my citizens have turned into zombies!" I could barely make this out: the audio was blurred a little. "Any time, Princess. I lost Jake on the way here...any way you could help him?" Audio blurred again. "Finn, we can't help the people in Japan, can we?" Finn steps closer. "Japan? What's--" Suddenly, the throne jolts around to find a green Princess Bubblegum with half of her body missing. All that's left is bones. She leaps at Finn, biting his head off gruesomely. Blood spatters out as Finn falls down, dead.
"Down With The Sickness" started to play as some candy zombies carried Jake and Finn's lifeless bodies outside. They throw them off of cliffs, then celebrate. Suddenly, they turn back to normal. Also as sudden, the ground turns into a pack of leeches. In fact, everything turned into leeches. The candy citizens were sucked into the pits of leeches, slowly dying. The scene faded to black, then white text came into view:
"THE ENCLOSED EPISODE OF ADVENTURE TIME HAS BEEN REMOVED FOR INAPPROPRIATE CONTENT BY THE US GOVERNMENT. PLEASE CONTINUE WATCHING YOUR REGULAR PROGRAMS ON CARTOON NETWORK."
It was a traumatic experience, for sure. I slowly went back to sleep, only to be woken up by my mother: it was time for the first day back at elementary school.
The Family Portait
Recently at the art gallery I work at they had a new exhibition for local artists. It was the usual sort of thing; substandard paintings that only got a shoe-in because they were from the local community, paintings of local people and places and so forth. It was my job to decide which paintings got put on display, which entailed me sorting through around a hundred of these awful excuses for art. There was one, though, that really caught my attention. Unlike the others it was not of a local scene or a local person; it was of a family. A father in a suit sitting in a chair, his dutiful wife behind him and his young son and daughter at his feet.
By the looks of their clothes they were from the 19th century, typically dressed for a middle class family of that period. Two things struck me about the painting; firstly the attention to detail and the quality of the artwork was impeccable (almost photogenic) and secondly was the shiver it sent down my spine. The people in the portrait had this eerie, gaunt look to them, and expressions that were so blank they looked almost dead. The painting had no artists name attached to it, and Molly from reception had said that she couldn’t recall anybody sending it in. I decided then that instead of putting the painting on display I would take it home with me; after all it had no name attached to it so nobody was going to miss it were they?
I got home and decided that I was going to hang it in my study, and after hanging it spent the rest of the night filing paperwork. Every so often I would find my eyes drawn to the painting. I felt the strangest, and most uncomfortable, sensation. I felt like the family in the painting were somehow judging me; like I could feel their eyes boring into me from the painting. What’s worse is that because they were staring at the painter (and therefore anybody who looked at the painting) their eyes seemed to follow me around the room. After a while I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned the painting against the wall and vowed that, no matter how interesting it was, I would return it to the gallery the next day. I got a hold of myself though, I had been working quite late and was very tired, and decided that I would sleep on it. I began to finish off the last of my filing at my desk. This was a bad idea; my eyes were heavy and before I knew it I had fallen asleep right there in the study.
That night my dreams were filled with visions of the painting. Over and over again all I dreamed about was that family staring at me from behind the canvas, drilling into my soul with their blank, visionless stares. With every dream they seemed to get more and more intense, until after a while their eyes were wide and they were giving me looks of such intense hatred that I thought they were about to kill me. After a while I snapped into awareness to find myself face to face with the painting, except this time instead of blank expressions I was faced with a hellish vision that will haunt me until I die. Their faces were twisted into looks of absolute malice. Their gaunt waxen skin was drawn taught across their pointed cheekbones, their lips peeled back across blackened gums to reveal gnarled yellow teeth bared in a bestial snarl. The less that was said about their bloodshot, protruding eyes the better. I screamed and fell off my chair, stumbling out the room, unable to turn and look back at the painting. I ran across the hallway and dived into my bed, burying my head under the covers.
The next morning when I woke up I was still terrified. I rationalized it to myself though; you were overtired and you had a night terror, the room was dark and both the shadows and your mind were trying to play tricks on you. I went about my usual routine unperturbed, comforted by the rational logic of my mind. I was about to go to work when I realized I had forgotten about the papers in the study. I opened the door to grab the papers but as soon as I set foot in the room my heart froze and my blood ran cold. The painting was still turned against the wall. Not only that, but my desk had not even been facing the painting to begin with; it was facing the window.