Random Internet Fodder

Some people believe that Random Internet Fodder (RIF) is nonsense, but it's not; RIF is an entirely sensical in a highly complex and entertaining kind of way method for analyzing the constant cerebral uproar heard throughout the world's most agreeable archipelagos. With origins in the Fortunate Islands, RIF is colorless in nature, and ruled by the dignified Queen of of Empty Hats, who constantly mumbles under her breath: "There is a bubble floating here, a lone sphere of mystical liquid hugging air particles." 

According to Carl Sandburg, Rootabaga Stories (New York, 1922): 

No one knows what she means by these enigmatic phrases. 

Random Internet Fodder is used for: 

• Making rash judgments 
• Dissecting rash judgments and biases
• Wondering what's for lunch
• Reminding oneself that there's left-over Chinese food in the refrigerator 
• Negotiating with a universal "get things done efficiently" clock: "I'll be extra productive as soon as I write this article." 
• On occasion, but not today, wondering why she writes random articles 
• Returning to Alphonse Brown's, Une ville de verre, to Elisee Reclus Island, discovered simultaneously by a French and American expedition, who each claimed it for their own country. 
• Climbing up to Schrader Volcano, the highest peak on the Elisee Reclus Island. 
• Using minerals and volcanic heat to blow glass in the fabrication of glass domes on lava columns, called Cristallopolis. 
• Producing lightening from hot springs and steam-powered dynamos. 
• Founding expeditions to visit Maurelville, the city of igloos. 
• Trekking down the mountains behind Maurel City to the subterranean town, called New Maurel City, to try try and strike GOLD! 
• Inventing telephone systems from recovered ocean wreckage, connected with aluminum found in the clay of the geysers and supported by pillars of lava, in the event the world finds useful a communications network made entirely from random parts. 

Random Internet Fodder is a word that comes from Tanzania, see young boy (above_ transporting cut green fodder being transported to cattle in Tanzania.

In imaginary regions, Random Internet Fodder is called by different names:

• Waste-of-time
• Travessa Time
• Daupine Delight 

Even though Random Internet Fodder is found outside imaginary regions, in other places of the world RIF is a revered part of the culture, making up the landscape of intriguing societal discourse, such as that found lurking around after-dinner parties. 

For Imaginary cultures, Random Internet Fodder was a divine creation that represented Chanel, a goddess with 400 pairs of designer shoes to match her 400 designer bags. Random Internet Fodder crossed wits with A Random Homme, who represented certain traits that helped in the fermentation of random scientific ideas, causing RIF to acquire magical powers. The people of those times considered Random Internet Fodder a very important thought consideration and smile of mind of Imaginary peoples. 

According to the RIF codex, the native tribes found different uses for Random Internet Fodder and its sub-products: 

• food for the imagination 
• sugar for warm beverages
• threads of reasons connecting random ideas at loin distances 
• needles in haystacks
• comfortable shoes
• views from roof tops made from the leaves of the blue agave plant
• weapons to combat cynicism and indifference 
• virtual paper 

The Imaginary peoples learned to manifest Random Internet Fodder and then cook it and turn it into alcohol, honey, and vinegar. The margins on these product sales are considered healthy. 

When the conquerers came to the State of El Hadd, riding white horses, saddled and harnessed in the Persian manner, dressed in tightly braided leather straps which look like armour from a distance; their only weapons long lances and the knives they wore at their belts; their only real protection their characteristic helmet made of a light shimmering metal, covered in light cloth; legends claim they looked like heavenly hosts mentioned in so many sacred books. That impression is heightened by the imagination inherent in Random Internet Fodder and by the instruments used in their fanfares - trumpets and trombones of ancient design. 

Random Internet Fodder beautifies the Imaginary landscape with its pointed questions and nonsensical cerebral labyrinths, that somehow land in the familiar territory of Told You So. In some places in Imaginary realms different Random Internet Fodder is produced; this RIF receives the generic name of "other stuff", and is given the last name of the region where it was produced "stuff from Elfwick" (the ELfin kingdom ruled by Queen Gruach in eastern Caithness, Scotland. Elfwick is famous for its library rich in the classics which includes a cabined of books classified as "curious"). 

Only one region, an archipelago consisting of hundreds of islands, some uninhabited and others important trading and agricultural communities, has the best conditions for producing Random Internet Fodder - that's the famous RIF region fondly called Earthsea. 

Earthsea is roughly circular and has a dimeter of some twenty thousand miles. At the heart of the archipelago lies the group known as the Inner Isles, which cluster around the Inmost Sea. To the north of this sea lies HAVNOR, the seat of the King of all the Imaginary Isles of RIF; to the south lies WATHORT, an important post for the trade with the southern islands. ROKE is in the heart of the Inmost Sea and is the centre for the teaching of the magic which is so vitally important to the life of Earthsea, the wellspring of RIF. 

The South Reach of Random Internet Fodder is perhaps the strangest in the entire archipelago. Here the fish are said to fly and the dolphins are reputed to sing. This may simply be more internet fodder; as the popular saying has it, "To hear fodder is to hear randomness."

The South Reach is traditionally a rebellious area, with an unsavoury reputation for piracy. 

Another Random Internet Fodder custom which is observed everywhere is the ceremony of naming a child, closely connected with magic. In infancy a child is named by its mother, and this name is used until he or she reaches the age in which they wish to change it. The child then undergoes the rites of random passage, wading through a variety of cultures, ranging from the simplicity of mountain people to the sophistication of city dwellers. Dress tends to vary considerably. 

Magic permeates every aspect of Random Internet Fodder. Virtually every imaginary village has its witch, who can cast love spells or speak charms to repair broken utensils and tools or cure the most common diseases, and ships frequently carry weatherworkers who have the power to control the winds and the waves. 

True magic, however, is taught only at the Great School of Internet Fodder, where the mages and wizards are trained. Those taught the secrets of fodder often spend their careers as sorcerers and advisers to the great princes and lords of the islands. 

At the Great School, magic is not merely a matter of creating fodder but of studying and mastering the world itself; ultimately it becomes a philosophy and a form of practical, humorous wisdom. 

The first recorded queen of Random Internet Fodder was Soph, who is said to enjoy spreading happiness like jam, a little at a time and preferably without spilling. Not only is Soph the best known Random Internet Fodder Queen, who is not only a sparkly sorceress and little animal master, one whom Micro Yorkies deigned to speak, but it was she who defeated the Firelord who sought to banish darkness and stop the sun at noon; the flowers with which she defeated the Firelord are currently flourishing in her garden. 

The Firelord was also responsible for much of the conflict between Earthsea and what is now the Imaginary Empire. He is said to have challenged the power of the Great Intellect's high priest and to have been defeated by him. His wizard's staff was broken and his power taken from him; more important, his amulet was broken in two. The ring was of silver and was inscribed on the outside with nine runes of power and on the inside with a wave design, and while it remained broken RIF could not be governed by a single Queen. 

After the fall of the centralized monarchy, Random Internet Fodder was passed on to the provincial lords and by whoever could hold power on his or her own island. The archipelago, as a whole, was eclipsed by the rise of the Republican Empire, which became a major threat to the rights of man on the eastern isles. 

The recent story of Random Internet Fodder is dominated by one intellect, Soph, probably because she's got nothing better to do but entertain herself and a handful of other Self-Proclaimed Eccentrics - certainly, she is the only one to have defeated the Firelord, which makes her a threat to cynicism and indifference. 

Soph is revealed for her magical abilities; and was trained by the famous Dr. Robert Graham, the founder of the repository for germinal choice, who considered her brain "first class" -that was before she went down the rabbit hole Dr. Graham designed. 

The remaking of the Firelord's ring did not mean that peace had been restored to Earthsea. On the contrary, news constantly came to RIF of the decline of many important towns and islands. Magic was being abandoned; wizards were said to have given up their power to a greater force; in oil and gas companies that had led the population to a state of near-anarchy; critical environments had fallen into decline because of the absence of magic.

It became clear that some foreign power was at work and rumours spread of someone who could offer eternal entertainment to those who gave up their names and followed. Soph set out in search of the source of this entertainment, accompanied by Little Miss Fia, a direct descendent of Thisbe, le chien de la Reine.

With the help of the dragons of the west the foreign power was traced to its source, where Soph and Fia finally overcame the greatest threat that Earthsea had ever known -the force of the Unmaking. 

Soph became Queen of all the Imaginary Isles and ruled a reunited Earthsea. According to the Deed of Soph, the great mage attended Soph's coronation and then left in his legendary boat, Look-far. 

A Random Witness said simply, 

"She rules a greater imaginary kingdom than do I." 

Humor is Love

I googled (forgive me other search engines) "love humor" and these are some of the images I found on the first page of my browser's search results ... 

You might think this is a post about love. Then again, you might think this is a post about humor, with love as its subject. You might think this post is an aphorism for how we show our love for the world. If this is what you think, you're right! 

Aren't the words 

"you're right" 

beautiful? 

I think so. 

You might think this post is lackadaisical. I actually had to google that word to see how to spell it. Into Google's search bar I typed the word "laxadasical". 

I don't know about you, but given how I spelled that word, I'm thinking I have a lazy brain and a peculiar way of enunciating myself. 

Whoops! Sorry ... I got distracted. My mom just texted me this gif. 

Back to what I was saying. 

Humor is love. 

Yes, I know how simple that sounds. 

And kind of cliché. 

And waaaayyyyyy overused, the word "love". 

But it's true. 

I think. 

There is love EVERYWHERE on the Internet. There is falling in love, falling out of love, falling in love with someone other than the person you're supposed to stay in love with, there is love thyself, love thy neighbor, love pizza, love bacon, love an anthropologist, love SOPH, love, love, love ... 

Most of this love business sounds sappy, especially when you're not the one making the declaration. If you're the one waiting for a declaration, it sounds pretty nice. If you're praying someone won't say these words to you, you're probably looking for the closest YouTube. 

But the kind of love that makes us genuinely happy, playful, and a bit giddy is the kind of love that makes us laugh. Whether you like high brow, low brow, laugh at life, laugh in the moment, slapstick, or ironic humor, the moment something makes you laugh, you probably feel pretty darn good inside. 

I looked for "love" in Antonio Damasio's book The Feeling of What Happens. 

I didn't find it. 

In retrospect I'm wondering why I went to Damasio for this subject; after all, he totally dissed my man Descartes. Not cool, Antonio, not cool. 

Moving onto that crazy, sexy scientist, Steven Pinker. 

He wrote about love. On love and death he began, (pg. 406) How the Mind Works: 

Like kin selection, reciprocal altruism has been contemned as painting, even condoning, a bleak picture of human motives. Is sympathy nothing but a cheap way to buy gratitude? Is niceness just a business tactic? Not at all. Go ahead and think the worst about sham emotions. But the reason the real ones are felt is not that they are hoped to help the feeler; it is that they are in fact helped [by] the feeler's ancestors. And it's not just that you shouldn't visit the iniquities of the fathers upon the children; the fathers may never have been iniquitous to begin with. The first mutants who felt sympathy and gratitude may have prospered not by their own calculation but because the feelings made it worth their neighbors' while to cooperate with them. The emotions themselves may have been kind and heartfelt in every generation; indeed, once sham-emotion-detectors evolved, they would be most effective when they are kind and heartfelt. Of course, the genes are metaphorically selfish in endowing people with beneficent emotions, but who cares about the moral worth of deoxyribonucleic acid? 

Actually, that bit didn't have anything to do with love. He was actually referencing Woody Allen's Love and Death. 

On Love, Pinker wrote, 

The mind is never so wonderfully concentrated as when it turns to love, and there must be intricate calculations that carry out the peculiar logic of attraction, infatuation, courtship, coyness, surrender, commitment, malaise, philandering, jealousy, desertion, and heartbreak. And in the end, as my grandmother used to say, every pot finds a cover; most people - including, significantly, all of our ancestors - manage to pair up long enough to produce viable children. Imagine how many lines of programming it would take to duplicate that! 

He goes on to say,

The spouse of one identical twin feels no romantic attraction toward the other twin. Love locks our feelings in to another person as that person, not as a kind of person, no matter how narrow the kind. 

That's just it!

We love a person, 

not a type of person. 

Just like we like different types of jokes. Like love, humor is joke specific. There are categories we like more than others, and in some cases, dislike immensely. Both are highly subjective. 

Henri Bergson wrote, in Laughter: An Essay on the Meaning of the Comic 

The first point to which attention should be called is that the comic does not exist outside the pale of what is strictly HUMAN. A landscape may be beautiful, charming and sublime, or insignificant and ugly; it will never be laughable. You may laugh at an animal, but only because you have detected in it some human attitude or expression. You may laugh at a hat, but what you are making fun of, in this case, is not the piece of felt or straw, but the shape that men have given it, --the human caprice whose mould it has assumed. It is strange that so important a fact, and such a simple one too, has not attracted to a greater degree the attention of philosophers. Several have defined man as "an animal which laughs." They might equally well have defined him as an animal which is laughed at; for if any other animal, or some lifeless object, produces the same effect, it is always because of some resemblance to man, of the stamp he gives it or the use he puts it to.  

How true is that...

It is highly tantalizing, to go back to Bergson and literally reread the first point, on the first page, in the first chapter after having written articles that (for me) were beautiful, charming and sublime; and others that were a bit off-the-wall, totally incoherent, or meaningless --making me wonder more about the innerworkings of my own mind and whether or not I can detect and then harness for personal gain (and the gain of others) something therein, or whether or not such an enterprise is worthy of the task given all the things one has to do in the course of a day and how few hours we have to get it all done. 

If I am alone in that thought, then I am an island. If I am not alone, then it's time to get over my self-indulgent intellectual proclivities and get back to work. 

If you're anything like me, you thought the squirrels were cute, but they didn't make you laugh. Calling Prince Charming an idiot made me laugh. Thinking I'd have to rescue him made me laugh. Thinking it is not nice to laugh at others made me move onto the next image, which in my case made me smile, 'cause I'm not colorsighted. But it didn't make me laugh. We already talked about the squirrel. 

Really in love evoked within me a deeper laugh, a biting recognition that obsession is miserable, whether you've felt it or created it in another, the only good that comes of this is felt in that heightened moment; but it's PRECISELY those moments that drive us onward in search of the next insanely intense moment when we feel most alive inside. This is why one good joke isn't enough. We are insatiable beings. We need fuel. We want to explode with laughter, feel ignited by love, laugh until we spill milk out of our noses. 

Admit it, you thought I was going to post a pic of someone shooting milk out of their nose.

That's all I had to say, really --that humor is love. 

Love is not always humorous. For that matter, it is not always kind, reciprocated, or long-lasting. And humor is not always about love: falling in it or losing it to your best friend. 

The desire to make someone laugh, to make someone feel good, to share a smile of mind; a giddy moment, one of those moments when you literally fall to the floor, holding your gut, to the point you think you're not going to be able to breathe if you don't stop laughing moments --these are the moments when we utilize humor to express the love we feel inside ourselves, in a way that is audience appropriate. 

We cannot have intimate relationships with everyone. There's simply not enough time, and some people frown upon this practice. 

 

But we can make others laugh. We can share a kind word, but you know what Steven said, there's a whole lot of subconscious neurological stuff going on when we do ... so, if you want to avoid having your intentions misconstrued, just declare humor as your soul mate. 

Awakening the Goddess Within

International Women's Day

In Hindu mythology, Kundalini is a serpent goddess who lies asleep, coiled at the base of the spine, waiting to be awakened. She enlivens all things. Repressed feelings and thoughts yield to her presence. Kundalini is The Great Liberator from which feelings of infinite love and universal connectivity, and transcendent awareness arise. Releasing Kundalini is not for the faint of heart.  Her fervor hungers for stored and blocked energie; she seeks it with eager fascination. Kundalini’s ambition is intense. It can lead to other worldly states. That which stimulates Kundalini’s awakening is many and varied, and can be triggered by extended periods of fasting, meditation, or high intensity. Even mundane experiences can summon her unpredictable nature. Kundalini heightens sensitivity and creativity. Her presence causes an upsurge in authenticity and its artifact, ability. This highly condensed, primal force, similar to potential energy found in matter, when released creates an intense connection between object and objective. The subtle channels it opens, known as nadis, the central channel that moves up the spine called sushumna, when met with a motivated intellect, spins and changes direction, and through its effects arises purity, transformation, and a retreat from self-knowledge. What emerges is the underlying psychological disposition of a being, which can be surprising and pleasing, or disturbing and alarming. A fullness of a minute in this space is exhausting. Entering this state with eyes widen, breaking away from restricted matter and moving toward the infinite, we are soon met with Shiva, Kundalini’s counterpart, the source of downward movement. Shiva destroys illusion, bringing with her realization of the eternal consciousness. But Rudra, the active principle of Shiva, is also the Lord of song; a healer and sacrifice of prosperity. He brings peace. Following the merging of the individual with Kundalini, bliss arises, transcending the experience, brining it into full manifestation. It is the dance of Shiva, the primordial rhythm of divinity within the heart, pulsating and initiating the emancipation of life itself; the cosmic heritage in all creation. In their coupling, principle moves toward form and order. When Kundalini and Shiva meet, rawness is tempered, vital energy is absorbed, and freedom and chaos explode. The piercing nature of thoughts considered in this state impregnate the seeker with potent awareness, which can only be sustained for as long as the seeker has stamina. Kundalini is a violent force, ravaging the mind and body and soul until it finds its release. When we experience Kundalini, we are unrefined, unconscious energies seeking refinement of the higher faculties. Kundalini and Shiva’s attraction is so great, nothing will stop their union. Their forces synthesize all that stands in their way; upper and lower, form and chaos, transcendence and immanence, all falling into a single dynamic essence. Dwelling steadfastly on the precipice between this twofold movement of emanation and reabsorption, we feel the vibration of the universal heartbeat.

Venusia, Island of Women

Oceania

Holly Sierra

In honor of, 

International Women's Day

Journée internationale des femmes 

Let us journey to,

Venusia, the Island of Women, an island in the Atlantic, near the equator. The port of Venusia is on a river estuary and its entrance is marked by two colossal statues of women in their grace and splendor who seem to scan the sea, water lapping round their legs. 

The traveler will find entry to Venusia quite easy, as the port is almost always deserted. Beyond he estuary lies Fons Belli, the capital, a brightly coloured city with geometrically laid out streets. It is famed for its gardens and is believed to have been the favorite resort of Venus Victrix. 

It is encircled by water-gardens built along canals, where tropical plants grow, such as begonias and orchids, surround statues of goddesses, bacchantes and Amazons. 

Above the city rises a hill with many gardens and marble villas, surrounded by orange and lemon groves and topped by a bronze tower which supports four female statues carrying the golden image of a woman in an attitude of triumph. 

At her feet the inscription 

VENUS VICTRIX ...

The city is divided into four concentric zones: the zones of temples, of domed buildings, of villas and gardens and of the streets around the port (Plebeana). Notable is the palace of the military leader, done in the style of a Greek temple, supported by slender columns on which are carved adolescent girls dancing and playing instruments. The artwork is so graceful that visitors say they can actually hear the music. 

Symphony of the Water Nymphs

Hanz Zatzka

The island is of volcanic origin, 

with a spinal chain of mountains and high pastures for sheep and cattle. There is only one active volcano and earthquakes are rare. Near Mount Astarte, famous for its sulphur and hot springs, is the city of Venus Genetrix, the City of Mothers, occupied by women and men selected for coupling. 

Arcadian Spring

Men belong to the State and are trained from an early age for various trades; they are then given to the women as an attendant. Each woman has between one and five attendants; high-ranking women have the better qualified men. Young women serve as soldiers before they become mothers and must remain virtuous during this period - those who break this law soon discover the error of their ways. 

The original settlers of Venusia were Spanish women whose galley was blown south into the Atlantic, during the reign of Hadrian. A society was established under the leadership of Julia Senecion, who organized the cult of Venus based on her displeasure with men. 

During two centuries, two rival tendencies developed: the "Masculines", who believed in the equality of the gendrs, and the "Venusians", convinced of female superiority and anxious to conquer the world. 

The Venusian civilization, in spite of many characteristics which have survived from Roman times (language, military organization), boasts an advanced science and technology. By 1788, aircraft, vehicles submarines and steamships were in use. Firearms, though invented over two centuries ago, are forbidden by law. 

Though Venusian is a language in itself, any traveler with a smattering of schoolboy Latin will be able to make himself understood. 

Cleopatra, testing poisons on Contemned Prisoners

O

ne whose heart has been laid bare before the eternal feminine energy is indelibly marked. Recognized only by what and where she is not; a fully realized experience held exclusively within yearns to be set free. In her purity and resplendence, she is the absolute experience of herself. Her nature runs free. All who commune with her are forever touched by the thrashing authenticity that purses through her veins. Hers is a place so utterly exclusive, it exceeds all comprehension. She is beyond what one thinks it is possible for a thing to be. In all her unique subtleties, in all her immensity, she is suspended, held in an idea that no longer exists. She is the penultimate journey of self-discovery, where the constitutive intellect finds its equal. Untouched by ennui, protected against the harshness of misconceived notions, where justice holds balance at bay; she holds a secret treasure. She glistens in hidden troves. She is the absolute experience, the pièce de résistance, the masterpiece, the magnum opus, the tour de force held within a memory. To explore her movements is to know intimately vigor and grace. We deem her courteous and good-natured. Behind the veil are the united efforts of energy and enthusiasm; both considered a relation of the other. At first blush, she differs in her expression. Her simple elegance and refinement of movement attract. She is polite. She has a talent for behaving in kind. She is the omnipotence of charm, beauty, and resplendent creativity, embodied in the ideals of beauty, mirth, and good cheer. She is a colossal figure, up to which Homer gazes in admiration. She is as mysterious as the Oracle of Delphi. She is youthful, beautiful, and closely self-embraced, enticingly dancing in a circle. She is the goddess of ancient love, from which charm arises. Delivered in the same tender fashion associated with grace, exists vigor. Marked by robustness, radiance, energy, and life; vitality, virility, verve, and spirit; zeal, passion, determination, dynamism - a force de vivre, he bows to her grace to quench his insatiable thirst for her high regard. Together they bestow a gift to one another in harmony with covetous endowment. The sentiment from this union which arises is a life plan, a pathway to maintain our equilibrium: a dynamic, ever-adjustable infatuation with the exigency of life. From her vantage we meet the challenges of survival, of creative passion, and higher destiny. She fosters within us the creative planning of human existence, the threads of deep discovery. As we extend ourselves outward in a creative force, in an ontogenesis of being, the Great Differentiator known as fervent feminine authenticity greets us. In her we recognize the measure of all things, the signifiers and justifiers of being, of continuous individual development, and of self-consistent personalities. We belong to her continuous flux in which interconnectedness, interrelations, and reciprocal predilections occur. Her stable elements maintain the bridge that connects us to the many shifts of identity, to those ideas that yield to frenzied states of being and becoming. Interpreting and giving meaning, whether silently or aloud, we find ourselves enraptured. Exploring the movements we deem pleasing, feelings of intense salacity arises. Transported in this sensory experience to a state of euphoria we acquiesce. When grace and elegance define our dignity of manner, when we are balanced in our co-participation, when our being is transported outside our circumstances and delivered somewhere between intent and direction, we recognize ourselves gently held and equally holding, alive and present. Behind the veil is ours alone. Immersed in a highly sensate world, we hold Psyche in our arms and ascend, safe from Venus, as the gods bow in eternal consent.

Based on:

Raymond Clauzel, L'Ile Des Femmes, Paris, 1922 ...