It's Friday. I'm exhausted. Just so people know, I've added Anna's
page and Rachel's page to my collection of
friends' pages. Feel free to check them out. Hey, you might find a picture of me there
one day soon... It's actually really early in the morning, so I'm too lazy right now to put anything else
worthwhile here, so good night. :-)
Thursday, March 30, 2000
Now that the majority of my religious readers of this page have left for either Washington, D.C. or New York,
New York, I shall update my page with more mindless babble for your mindless entertainment! Today's topic of
conversation is, well...
"On the seventh day, having finished his task, God rested from all his work." - Genesis 2:2
Taking this into account, why do Christians worship God on that seventh day? Based on what I have been taught,
that seventh day has been blessed and declared holy for it was His day of rest, as it should be ours. We send
Him prayers on the one day of the week that He is not listening. I propose that we focus our worship a little
more Monday through Sunday, and let Sunday be our day off, as it is His.
Tuesday, March 28, 2000
Happy Birthday Emily!!!
Sunday, March 26, 2000
Free will, what a concept. I chose to eat vanilla ice cream instead of chocolate ice cream. Oh really? And did
you also choose to prefer vanilla ice cream over chocolate ice cream? It is quite insane to believe human
beings have a free will. Well perhaps insane is not the right word. Is it insane in this day and age to
believe the world is flat? Or that the Sun revolves around the Earth? Well if it is, then people who believe
we have free wills are insane, but I'd prefer to refer to them as simply being stupid.
Oh, that's not to say I blame them for their stupidity. Of course not, for since everything is predetermined,
noone has a say over how intelligent or stupid one is. In fact there seems to be a certain advantage in their
maintaining their stupid insistance that they have free wills. Its kind of like how little kids prefer to
believe there really is a Santa Claus, and it really is kind of cruel to try to ruin their pleasant delusion.
Funny, how we have an institution called Christmas that has as one of its major aspects the perpetuation of
delusion in our young ones.
Anyway, I don't mean to spoil your pleasure if you believe you have a free will. I would like to understand
why this belief is so important to you. I mean, it really is a kind of arrogance, like the belief once held by
many people that the Earth is the center of the Universe. But, really, we have a situation where about 99.999%
of the human population is suffering under the delusion that what we think and feel and say and do is under
our control. Of course, if this were really the case then we would all be very intelligent and successful and
happy, etc. all of the time.
Oh, right, some of you deluded souls would be quick to plead, "We don't have full control, but we do have some
control!" Right. Like a rock has some control over its flight as its thrown.
So who can we blame for having most of us suffer under the delusion that we humans have a free will? Certainly
we can't blame God, because His will is just as predetermined as is ours. In other words, just as all of our
thoughts and acts originate in the eternal past, so do God's. Now some of your religious neanderthals might
scream at this point, "Hey, but God is omnipotent, all powerful... He can do whatever He wants!" Oh really?
I'm sure you've heard the question that asks, "If God is all powerful, can He create a rock so big that even
He can't lift it?" Hum... My question would be could God destroy Himself. Of course if He could, that would
end all claims to His being Eternal.
But we have strayed. Mankind is at present suffering from a collective delusion that we have free will, and
it is really sad because it sets rich against poor, black against white, tall against short, stupid against
intelligent, Americans against most of the rest of the world, etc. etc, etc. I mean, were humankind to get
over our collective insanity, we would recognize that whatever is dividing us is really what we should be
fighting, not ourselves.
But enough of the sermonizing. I happen to enjoy my delusional ways, and I doubt I shall stray from them any
time soon. Yes, I am part of the problem. I like the idea that I am in control of my destiny. Or more
accurately, I am satisfied with my mind telling me that I am in control when all decisions I make are actually
predetermined by previous events and similar decisions in my life. (That last statement is based on the idea
that all thoughts are based on previous thoughts - what one has been taught and surrounded by in his or her
brief lifetime - therefore every learned thing has come from somewhere else, which from there had come from
somewhere else, and therefore all is predermined. It's as fruitful a theory as that of how time began or where
"space" ends ... like I said, fruitful.)
Anyway, wanna know what mankind's next leap of conciousness will be? You guessed it... we will all someday
overcome the delusion of free will and live much more happy and healthy lives as a result. Actually I'm not so
sure. We could just continue to retain our delusion of free will and continue blaming ourselves and each other
for everything, and sooner or later we will just destroy ourselves and everyone else. Problem solved.
Death. I don't mean to change the subject, but whats all this dislike of death about? I mean, presumably we
are dead, or at least not alive, into the eternal past, and once we die, we'll remain dead into the eternal
future. So does it really matter if we live or die? Not really. Reincarnation? Seems like another story, like
Adam and Eve, etc. Maybe we do reincarnate, but why would it have to be on this planet. There's an eternity of
space out there to explore, and an eternity of time to consider. Not to mention the dimensions our primitive
human minds aren't powerful enough to comprehend.
Whew, I'm glad you stuck with me for that. Any thoughts? I'd love to hear them. It's rare that anyone dares to
respond to anything remotely philosophical these days, and that I truly miss about you guys and girls. So, by
all means, feel free to email me.
Thursday, March 23, 2000
Tonight, 8:00pm. Men's college basketball quarterfinals (Final 16) matchup, #10 Gonzaga vs. #6 Purdue. I have
very little to say, except that Gonzaga's about to turn Purdue's world upside down. Gonzaga's been the
underdog in every game they've played so far in this tournament, and they're not through yet. Tonight, Purdue
falls. Next, LSU (or possibly Wisconsin) falls. Monday, April 3, look for Gonzaga to take home the NCAA
basketball crown. GO ZAGS!
Tuesday, March 21, 2000
Is it possible that the mind may go the same way as the ether in physics? When light waves were discovered, it
was presumed the waves had to be due to the oscillation of some tangible thing. So, the ether was invented.
Later, it was discovered that no medium was needed. The whole idea of the ether faded away. So it seems with
the mind. We think, we feel, we have dreams. So, it is. It seems to create a duality and imposes an alien
structure on us to say "the mind" is doing it. We are doing it. We do all these wonderful
things. "I am in love." The "mind" as the seat of reason? It's the head. And, when you talk about the "feeling
mind" - its the whole body.
Sunday, March 19, 2000
Ashley, dear, you've got your wish. Thank you for entertaining us last night. I must say that I enjoyed myself
(even if I annoy the hell out of you). Oh, and if anyone in your family (whomever was getting a snack at
3:30am) wonders who that was in your front yard, I left my mom's car's cupholder (which had the rocks in it)
in your yard and had to make a return trip to pick it up. Man, driving around from 1:00am until 4:30am is just
fun. Zach, we'll have to do that again sometime, only next time we need to stop by Amy's house, because it
seems like someone else is doing it and we're not getting the proper credit we deserve. Bah, wannabes.
Friday, March 17, 2000
Happy Saint Patrick's Day ... the day of GREEN! I only pinched two people today (so far). That's an old and
worn out tradition that I usually choose not to take part in. Then again, some people you just have to pinch.
Like that amazingly hot chick that you just have to put your hands on when given the opportunity. Or your best
friend in the whole world just to be stupid (hehe, Zach you should have worn green). I hope you all have a fun
weekend. I plan to watch movies tonight, most of tomorrow, and tomorrow night we hit the lanes! I swear, 200
is so frickin' close to falling - someone HAS TO get it! Mike? Amy? Have you eaten your Wheaties?
Let's do this.
Thursday, March 16, 2000
For years I've always been happy, no longer what the circumstances in my life around me. The only thing that
really bothers me is the overall stupidity of society. Sure, a person can be smart. Some people can be smart
(however most are not). But society, no matter how you look at it, can never be. People get beng out of shape
over the simplest of things, and then just because someone else tells them something, no matter what the
circumstances, they go on believing it. It truly amazes me how simple today's young minds really are. I
honestly used to think that I was one of the dumbest ones out there. Now I'm convinced that either the
opposite is true, OR I am the dumbest one out of all of them. Either way, I can't explain this oddity,
nor shall I attempt to. I only hope that despite it, solutions can be found and harmony can be restored.
Zach, for the record, I don't know what I would do without you. I'd probably get another best friend, but
there would be 24 hours when I would be completely incosolable. You complete me. :) Also for the record, I was
never angry with you, I was just upset at the overall turn of events. But that's okay, I can live with
imperfection - after all, I have lived with myself for almost eighteen years...
Wednesday, March 15, 2000
This is easily of my more favored quotes. However, I feel the need to explain it, for I don't want any weird
images of Sarah being painted in your grotesque little minds. However, I would also like you to work for it,
since you're the one who's interested in the real meaning anyway (or if you're not, then I wouldn't want to
waste my time explaining it to you, so either way I'm saving time). Back yourself up to
December 3 for the truth behind the misconstrued meaning of why she said what she said
to me. Man, that was a fun night.
Happy day-late birthday to Candace Poole... for those of you that don't know, she turned 18 yesterday. Happy
birthday to Candace's best friend Dell today... she's also 18! Mmmm, that's about all for today. I'm tired.
dkyeoe21 - Nevermind that. It's just a password.
Monday, March 13, 2000
Remember a long time ago when I told you that math pays off (February 15th, find it if
you don't remember)? That all it takes is a little devotion to *gasp* math and you can go home with $500 just
like I did? I forgot to mention one thing: In order for the afore mentioned miracle to occur, the smart people
have to stay home. Oh, what I mean by that is... ya know that math team that I so carefully avoid mentioning
on this web page, ya know, our school's math team? Yeah that one. Well, we SUCKED Saturday. Well, I did
anyway. I'm supposedly the captain and "fearless leader," yet I received the lowest score among our varsity
squad - behind two juniors. Oh well, we had a blast anyway. We were having fun cheering for the geniuses from
Vestavia Hills (out of state, meaning they didn't belong there, meaning they robbed us and Houston County of
some awards) and of course our county's own Adam Racht. Well that's enough of that.
Friday, March 10, 2000
12:00am - jpmccord.cjb.net is history. My site's new home is
mccord.penix.net. Any questions, complaints, threats, etc.,
click here (it's his fault). Please update any links, bookmarks,
etc. that may point to this site at any other address. This isn't necessary, for the old address shall point
to the new, but if you have the time and feel like using the effort, please make the changes. Thanks.
Also, for your convenience and mine, I have a new email address:
mccord@penix.net. It is shorter and quicker than my longer addresses, so
please make the switch, however all of my email addresses eventually send the mail to the same place through
long forwarding processes. Either way, I prefer that you either use
mccord@penix.net or
jpmccord2@att.net. The second address is guaranteed
never to fail, but the first is easier to remember and comes with a 99.999999994% guarantee. Choose wisely. :)
Thursday, March 9, 2000
Oh yeah, I promised you guys and girls a story a few days ago. Well this shall be plain and simple. It was
early 1991, I was eight years old. My dad took us out to eat at Ryan's as he liked to do on "Kid's Night" (99¢
for kids under 12 when an adult meal is purchased). Well, all was normal throughout the meal, but something
always happens to keep things unusual; that's just how my life is. Well, being eight years old and stubborn, I
refused to eat my ice cream in a cone and put it in a bowl. Eating it with a spoon was just so much more fun!
I could stir it and make a milk shake - man! Those were the days. Anyway, I got my favorite: strawberry! I got
back to the table and sat down to eat. I don't remember how I did it, but I dropped my spoon on the floor, so
I reached down to pick it up, planning to clean it off and use it (I was eight, I didn't know all the things
that could possibly have occurred on that floor as I know now). Well my hand never made it that far. As I
reached for the spoon, my head (which was just a little too much over the table) flipped a full bowl of PINK
ice cream onto my head. Not just on the side, but right on top - the bowl actually stayed until I leaned up.
It wasn't so bad at first, but then everyone stared and pointed and laughed, and man I pitched the biggest fit
I can remember even today. I went to the bathroom and refused to leave until we were going home - I wasn't
about to go back out there and face the mindless pointers and laughers. If only I thought then how I think now
- I would have just told myself "good one," laughed a little, maybe been a little embarrassed ... and then I
would go back and refill the same bowl of ice cream, probably without cleaning myself off. Before you wonder,
YES. Yes, I am psycho. Just for clarification.
Tuesday, March 7, 2000
So you think you can write? You want to have a go at breaking into the market for novels and short fiction?
Don't be ridiculous. Quit now.
Everywhere that publishes short fiction gets about three hundred submissions for every story they publish.
Every book publisher that might take a chance on a first time novelist gets thirty or forty new items in its
slush pile every day, and publishes maybe fifteen or twenty books a year. Even if you're a great talent, the
odds are against you. And chances are you aren't a great talent. Chances are you ain't even good enough to
qualify as mediocre.
Let's look at this objectively, shall we? About two thirds of the population leave school with a serious
literacy problem. Most of these twits then go on to get dead-end jobs that need little or no command of the
English language, and the pitiful skills their teachers imparted atrophy within two years. Just playing the
odds, I can say that there's every chance you are one of these dolts.
So the first thing you've got to do is learn your own mother tongue all over again before any editor is going
to read more than two paragraphs of your dribbling, worthless output. Given that you're stupid enough to have
screwed up learning it the first time, what's your chance of getting it right this time around? Like I said,
quit now.
So maybe you got past forgetting your own language when you left school. Maybe you graduated (or will graduate
from) high school. Now you're thinking you made it into the top educational two per cent, which is what your
guidance counsellor told you. Wrong. University-level education is now running at about thirty per cent of the
population, which is why people are making jokes about arts graduates and MacDonalds. And even the
production-line college tutors trying to distract this bovine flood of would-be Bachelors of Sweet Fanny Adams
from cheap alcohol and screwing each other until their acne pops are lamenting the low standards of literacy
in the raw material they're getting.
So even you college graduates have got to go right back to the reception class (Kindergarten for the Americans
and other aliens reading this) and start again. And you're still too stupid to get it right. I'll say it
again. Quit now.
Right. Now we've written off ninety-nine per cent of the population as possible writers, let's start in on the
one per cent who are left. To these people I say: QUIT NOW. I REALLY, REALLY, MEAN IT.
Save yourself the time and pain. Watch TV, drink beer, take up gardening or BDSM. Find a hobby you can stick
at. If you feel driven to write, stick it on a website (they can be had for nothing from any ISP) where it
won't ever be read by anyone, or just bin it as you pull it out of the typewriter - the same net effect and
lots cheaper. Don't delude yourself that just because you can stick words in a row and you know a dangling
participle from your own left buttock that you're about to produce something anyone will ever buy. If you're
doing it right, it's coming from your heart and guts and gonads, and every time you write you squeeze a little
bit of yourself onto the page. Only if you, as a person, can make that worthwhile for the reader do you stand
a chance. Let me play the odds again here and say:
YOU AREN'T WORTH READING. QUIT NOW. I SAID, YOU CLOTH-EARED MORON, QUIT! IN THE NAME OF UNHOLY SET AND HIS
IDIOT BROTHER NIGEL, AREN'T YOU LISTENING? QUIT! NOW, BEFORE YOU WASTE ANY MORE OF YOUR LIFE!
Even the best writers on the planet - a tiny percentage of all humans - produce crap most of the time.
Everyone else produces crap all of the time. This, so far, includes me. Maybe I'll learn better. I probably
won't. The worst of it is this - few people are worth reading, but everyone knows piss-poor writing when they
read it, or more likely give up half-way through reading it, so you can't even get away with serving up crap
to the many-headed and charging like it was cordon bleu. Take me, for example. I've got an IQ of two hundred
and more degrees than you can shake a stick at. That's enough to know I'm flattering myself if I think the
day-job's going to see the back of me before it's time for the gold clock and the one-way ticket to the
geriatric ward. I've been trying nearly a year, and all I've had is "nice try" scribbled on the bottom of a
form rejection. That's it, to show for all my labors. Less than two inches of ink. And you, you worthless
piece of pond-scum, you think you've got as good a chance as me? Forget it. Quit now.
You see, I might get lucky. For you, lucky was coming to me for advice before it was too late. Quit now.
Monday, March 6, 2000
The combination of last night and today has made for one of the most interesting 24-hour periods in my life.
I learned that I'm a player and that I manipulate women, then I learned that no matter what the circumstances,
I can face my fears, be honest with myself and others, and everything turns out better than ever. Maybe I owe
Shannon an apology, or some gratitude. Sure, she bitched at me and had absolutely no good reason to (well, her
reasons were horrible), but she made me think about things and I feel like I've gained so much as a person in
the last few hours because of that. Man, this life thing is pretty cool. If you haven't tried it yet, get off
your butt and do it!
Sunday, March 5, 2000
State champions in basketball or not, Warner Robins High School is the best school in the state. We kick ass
in football, baseball, soccer and, according to this year, basketball; not to mention the fact we're one of
top rated academic schools in the state. No one comes close. I'm proud to be a Demon!
Anyway, I had a fun weekend. Friday night I chilled with Dalila and Brandy. Saturday I chilled with Dalila and
Zach. Sunday I got bitched at by Shannon for chilling with Dalila and Brandy (basically). You don't know the
story, nor will you know the story, but for the record, Shannon doesn't know a thing about me and assumes that
I'm a "player" (that's proof of her stupidity, anyone thinking that I have what it takes to be a player, well
that speaks for them). First I laughed my ass off, then I took it seriously, and now I want to bitchslap her
from here to Canada. Oh well, I felt like sharing that with you. Tomorrow on the boring details of my life
show: the vicious ice cream to the head incident!
Friday, March 3, 2000
Not like it matters a whole lot, but it has been exactly one month to the day since Scott last updated his
web page. I just wanted to point out to everyone
that no matter how long it takes him to feed you with more useless information, he is still the man. Period.
Do not fight the power, for the power cannot be defeated. It only lets you think you have defeated it, then at
your weakest point crushes you again. Or sometimes, just to be mean, it gets you at your strongest point just
to prove to you that you cannot win, rather than leaving you hope so you will futilely and endlessly continue
trying. Power rules all. Don't mess.
Thursday, March 2, 2000
If any of you missed it, I have moved the Armageddon sound clip (hilarious, I kid you not)
to the wonderful page of stuff - "stuff" for lack of better diction. I moved it there
simply because it is worthy of a permanent home on my site, rather than wasting away alone on the page for
February Two-Triple-Zero for as long as the internet allows.
And now, for your reading/viewing/whatever pleasure, I would like to share a little story with you. Yesterday
Zach and I decided to play racquetball for a couple hours. Within the first ten minutes of playing I smacked
him in the head and left a nice red mark beside his eye. Luckily, we were only warming up so I hadn't hit the
ball that hard. *skipping ahead ... about 90 minutes ahead* We had been playing hard for a good while, and now
the ball was being hit at speeds probably greater than 120mph most of the time. Well, one particular whack
that Zach took sent the ball screaming into my right nipple (not just my chest, but square on the nipple). At
first I thought the ball would go through me, but then I realized that Buoyant forces were against that. The
pain that immediately struck was like that of someone pulling your skin off of a fresh wound ... painful! I
played it off, and it eventually went away, but I have a 3 inch radius purplish bruise to show for it! Now you
see, that wasn't that bad of a story. Stay tuned for more boring details of my life!