You don't know me, just like you don't know anyone else you talk about, which makes the things you say invalid.
You can talk about text all you want and not be contested unless you simply "get it wrong", but when it comes to other people, especially when you are confronted with others who know them better, all you can do is defer.
πάντα άγρυπνος As all gods are of human creation, worshipping an external god is to worship another human by proxy
Ангелы и демоны кружили надо мной
Рассекали тернии и млечные пути
Не знает счастья только тот,
Кто его зова понять не смог...
Devia Eramus - dude, I admit I laughed some xD, but stop provoking her! And Aziel Satori, relaaaaax, lady, you've pushed your point that you've seen this and that, and experiened la-di-da. Alright already. Lighten up, this thread is turning annoyingly dreary.
BACK ON FREAKING TOPIC:
I just remembered that a boy asked me out on a date when I was six, but I flung mud in his face date can mean something very vulgar in a certain Polynesian language xD. I remembered that last night when my friend's little brother told me he liked a girl in his kindergarten ;-;
Cody: facebook scrabble game won't let me use the word "punz". I get regularly frustrated by its lack of recognition of words that I say are real, like ginses which is a lot of gins
The last scene was interesting from the point of view of a professional logician because it contained a number of logical fallacies; that is, invalid propositional constructions and syllogistic forms, of the type so often committed by my wife. "All wood burns," states Sir Bedevere. "Therefore," he concludes, "all that burns is wood." This is, of course, pure bull****. Universal affirmatives can only be partially converted: all of Alma Cogan is dead, but only some of the class of dead people are Alma Cogan. "Oh yes," one would think.
However, my wife does not understand this necessary limitation of the conversion of a proposition; consequently, she does not understand me. For how can a woman expect to appreciate a professor of logic, if the simplest cloth-eared syllogism causes her to flounder.
For example, given the premise, "all fish live underwater" and "all mackerel are fish", my wife will conclude, not that "all mackerel live underwater", but that "if she buys kippers it will not rain", or that "trout live in trees", or even that "I do not love her any more." This she calls "using her intuition". I call it "crap", and it gets me very *irritated* because it is not logical.
"There will be no supper tonight," she will sometimes cry upon my return home. "Why not?" I will ask. "Because I have been screwing the milkman all day," she will say, quite oblivious of the howling error she has made. "But," I will wearily point out, "even given that the activities of screwing the milkman and getting supper are mutually exclusive, now that the screwing is over, surely then, supper may, logically, be got." "You don't love me any more," she will now often postulate. "If you did, you would give me one now and again, so that I would not have to rely on that rancid Pakistani for my orgasms." "I will give you one after you have got me my supper," I now usually scream, "but not before" -- as you understand, making her bang contingent on the arrival of my supper.
"God, you turn me on when you're angry, you ancient brute!" she now mysteriously deduces, forcing her sweetly throbbing tongue down my throat. "**** supper!" I now invariably conclude, throwing logic somewhat joyously to the four winds, and so we thrash about on our milk-stained floor, transported by animal passion, until we sink back, exhausted, onto the cartons of yoghurt.
I'm afraid I seem to have strayed somewhat from my original brief. But in a nutshell:
Sex is more fun than logic -- one cannot prove this, but it "is" in the same sense that Mount Everest "is", or that Alma Cogan "isn't".