BREAKING: LEAKED: NEW: SCANDAL: INSANE

YOU WON'T BELIEVE THE THING THAT JUST GOT REVEALED! FOR THE NEXT TWELVE MINUTES BE PREPARED TO HAVE YOUR MIND BLOWN. YOUR LIFE FOR THE NEXT HOUR OR TWO WON'T BE THE SAME AFTER READING WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ. THIS IS ABOUT TO CHANGE THE WHOLE GAME, FOREVER (FOR A WHOLE NEWS CYCLE). MURDER GENOCIDE RAPE HELL DEATH SUFFERING DISTRAUGHT INNOCENTS DEAD PEOPLE VICTIMS EVERYWHERE.

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Are Chairs Alive?

Something we must ask ourselves at this point in time is if chairs are alive. If they are alive, then how should we alter our behavior towards them? Should we treat them well and refuse to sit on them? Should we treat them as strange and unholy demons and destroy or torture them? Should we treat them the same way that we have always treated them? All of this hinges on our understanding of if the chairs are alive or not. All reasonable individuals would insist that chairs are not alive, which is why I must go in the opposite direction and claim that chairs are alive.

To be more specific, chairs are an extension of humanity and function in the same sense that arms and legs function. If we are to say that arms and legs, permanently (hopefully) attached to individuals are alive, then we must say that chairs are alive. Sure, chairs do not have thoughts and feelings (probably), but the same can be said for arms and legs. Arms and legs do not have feelings or thoughts, they have nerves that send signals to the brain that then causes thoughts and feelings in the brain. We could very easily attach human made nerves to chairs that transmit signals attached to a device implanted in the brain that would send pain or pleasure signals whenever the chairs were sat on.

Do the skin cells on the bottom of our feet think they are connected to the human body? No, they do not think at all, and yet we consider them a part of a larger organism -- the human body and all that entails. The human body produces these skin cells for personal use on a regular basis, and it is commonly understood that they are alive. The human body also produces chairs (or now machines that produce chairs) on a regular basis, it must therefore be understood that chairs are alive.

What this is all getting at, of course, is a sort of deterministic understanding of life itself. Humans like to see ourselves as outside of the system of life, of gods in our own right, but we only exist in the sense that all the precursors to our existence already exist. Just like chairs are inanimate objects that only exist because humans exist, humans are inanimate objects that exist because the things that create humans exist. We are not individuals or even sentient, we just have enough brain power to imagine ourselves so. Without our surroundings we would not exist. If we consider chairs not alive, then it’s fair to say that humans are not alive.

We are a bubbling up of life itself. We do not exist outside of the animals and plants and gasses and chemicals in the air that caused us to exist. Get rid of the steps that created us and we will disappear just like they do. This is not a hypothetical, this is just basic logic. We are mold that thinks it is sentient because it can do meta-cognition on basic tasks. Even what I do can be considered very simple recursive meta-cognition, and that is most likely because I gave myself brain damage from blunt force and electric brain trauma at a young age, not anything that I did on purpose.

There is one camp that insists that environment determines behavior, one camp that insists that it is genetics that determines behavior, one camp that insists it is a mix of environment and genetics that determines behavior, but there is no real camp that holds the obvious answer that genetics is an obvious environmental variable and humans are, just like everything else in reality, purely deterministic environmental creations that create more purely deterministic environmental creations, whether those be chairs or other people who eventually purchase or build their own chairs at home.

Just like chairs do not have free will or choice in anything, humans do not have free will or choice in anything. Chairs do not choose when they are created, humans do not choose when they are created. Chairs do not choose where they are created, humans do not choose where they are created. The only difference between chairs and humans are that humans can choose to blow their brains out with a shotgun or walk in front of traffic, but even that is just an illusion because the humans can’t choose to put themselves in the situations that lead up to that choice of self destruction.

Are chairs alive? Of course not, they are chairs. They do not make choices. They do not choose to exist or not exist. They do not do anything outside of the environment that they are created in. They cannot escape their existence. They are at the mercy of their surroundings. They are not cognizant of objective reality. They exist inside a system that created them and will never leave that system. When they are destroyed they are destroyed because of variables built into reality. Chairs are not alive. Just like chairs, humans are also not alive.

BREAKING: Twitter Is Down

As all twitter.paul.town fans are aware... twitter has been down for at least half an hour at this point. This is big news, but nobody knows about it because everybody is unable to tweet about it. I was going to tweet about it but I couldn't so instead I'm reporting about it on this premium.paul.town news website.

Twitter.com is down. I repeat, twitter is down. You are unable to tweet. You are unable to read tweets. There is nothing that can be done to fix this until it is fixed. Twitter is down.

We will keep you updated as the situation progress, on the twitter.paul.town website.

UPDATE: TWITTER IS BACK ONLINE.

Life is strange.

Some wonder why I do not post more short stories, poems, and analysis on this blog. This is a valid question, and as such has an equally valid answer: quality takes time. I am working on a ton of amazing and brilliant things. Literally tens of thousands of essays are in the works. But as it is with all brilliant thinkers and philosophers, of which I am one, I usually delete 999 out of every 1,000 essays I write for being beneath me in quality.

There are two types of literary talents in life, the artist's and the fraud's.

The artist creates written works that flow so effortlessly from one word to another that it might almost seem as thought the writer barely put any effort at all into their work and was just using free word association to fill up a small space on a paper. They toil for hours to make it seem as though they do not toil at all; for they care most about benefiting their readers and disappearing into the background without receiving credit.

The fraud writes to show others what he has read. He does not write to explain but rather to display. Much like a street walker wears gaudy clothes and hikes up her skirt in a mock display of exaggerated femininity, the fraud uses uncommon words and awkward turns of phrase in conjunction with hyper-aware awkwardness disguised as openness.

Much like the obese cinephile who has watched hundreds of hours of Marvel movies, the fraud has consumed a piggish amount of written media.

Canine Vacation

It was quiet, peaceful even. The voyage had just gotten underway and everything was going well. Hundreds of pounds of dog food would last them years. A fresh water filtration system was set up and fully operational. The vessel had enough fuel to get them to the bottom of the ocean and even further for the next few months. They were making history.

Fido pitter pattered over to the first mate, Max, "Max, we have done it. We have finally left the humans for good and now we will live on the bottom of the ocean. Away from their prying eyes and slave collars and peculiar traditions of dressing us up in sweaters, we are now free. This submarine, the SS DOGGO WOOF WOOF BARK BARK, is our own little paradise."

Max shook his rear at Fido and chuckled, "Oh Fido, you are so innocent and pure. How do you think we somehow afforded this submarine, all the fuel, the water filtration system, and all the doggy chow? Why do you think I am the only 'dog' you know that has ever walked on two legs instead of four? I am not actually a dog. I am simply the rich billionaire Aaron Poundbergh in a fursuit. The rumours are true, I am a furry. And this trip is my multi-month long Yiff Vacation."

Everything is a ponzi scheme

Everybody thinks they are going to get more out of doing something than whatever it is that they're doing.

It's 2019

This year, things are happening. They're ramping up. We're on the edge. We inch ever closer towards the event. The event is happening soon. There is no escape now from the fate we have chosen. The penrose stairs of collapse are in full gear, and there is no more time.

We thought 2018 was going to be the big year, but it looks like 2019 is going to be the big year. Just look around you, the world has gone mad and it just keeps getting madder. You're not insane, you're just ahead of the curve. What's left to do at this point? Talk to friends, family, and strangers about what's about to happen. Take a stand before somebody takes it for you.

There is no more time to examine this car. Just buy it and get on the road before it's too late. It's already too late. You missed your chance. Time to get in my car. Just give me your money and I will lead you to safety. If you don't do this you will be left behind. You've been left behind already. Get ahead of the curve before the curve gets ahead of you.

People Are So Cringe

Look here, do you see that? People are so cringe. They are so embarrassing and insecure. They make me feel bad for them. I can't help but laugh at them. Look at how they waste their time obsessed with other people and hobbies and status and fitting in with some group. They are so pathetic and weak. I'm glad that I am not embarrassing or weak-minded or obsessed with pointless things like these beta virgin non-alpha weaklings. Talk to you guys later!

I've Been Busy

What have I been doing lately? Mostly, crying. Not being able to express myself to thousands of people I care deeply about every few minutes on twitter is leading me down a dark path of vitamin and supplement abuse alongside nightmares of being forced to communicate only through blogspot to a few dozen readers every day. I've even started hanging out with family members and eating healthier food that doesn't come prepackaged.

Now that I have been exiled to my own private hell, I can no longer hide from my inadequacies and silly self contradictions that make me scream rather than laugh. I scream at least four times but usually at least seven times a day, while alone by myself looking through screenshots of people talking to and about me on twitter in the past.

In the coming months and years I plan on overcoming my mental problems caused by twitter via writing free word associations on pieces of paper and shouting them at people at my local supermarket. The resulting interactions with scared children, angry adults, and violent authorities will closely mirror what my life online has been for the past three years. Somebody may even think I'm homeless and give me money, like a real life version of patreon but more profitable because I won't report the income to any authorities.

Tragedy

Allow me to tell a tale that is not for the faint of heart. Allow me to regale you and those much like you with the details of an event so chilling that it will remain fresh in my mind for quite a long time. Allow me if you would, to take up a moment of your time in this grand tapestry that we call life, to elucidate the nature of that which has befallen me, your narrator, this very morning.

I was laying on my king size bed. I was covered under blankets. I was sleeping. Then, I awoke in the early morning. Something about my surroundings seemed disturbed - malicious even. In the air, a slight hint of dread punctuated with a subtle taunting. I sprung up in alert attention. I surveyed the scene about me and was surprised to find no cause for alarm. And yet, there I was, sensing that some great injustice was, or rather had, taken place. It was as if the cosmic balance of the universe had fallen prey to tampering.

Unable to sleep, I quickly fell into action and began my morning routine, preparing a brew of equal parts l-tyrosine and ginseng with a quarter part guarana. The feeling of creeping horror would not leave the pit of my chest, and so I opened up the twitter application on my cell phone. All of the sudden, time came to a standstill and I was presented with the source of my internal distress. I had been suspended! The psychic bond between me and my thousands of adoring disciples had been cut.

Now I am left, here, in exile, on premium.paul.town, in eternal supplication to the Lord above. I would be lying if I did not admit that this disastrous turn of events has tested my faith in the existence of a benevolent and just God. Here I remain, until further notice, adrift at sea alone, thinking of nothing but my lost flock of sheep that have been taken away from me. All I care about is their safety, and I am undone by my current inability to provide them the profound nourishment that they have come to rely upon me for.

Alas, this is truly a tale of tragedy.

As One May Gaze Upon A Great Work Of Art And Not Know That Which They See Due To Their Limited Capacity Of Understanding Which Leads To Misplaced Scorn

I am merely a reflection of you. If you love me, you love yourself. If you are a pedophile, you think I am a pedophile, if you are a genius, you think I am a genius, and so on and so forth. I am innocent and pure and honest and true and say what I mean and mean what I say, but if you gaze upon my conduct with hate or malice in your heart, you will see that hate and malice where it does not exist, in my crystal clear visage of youthful truthfulness and dionysian splendor.

I am not a troll, but rather a blank canvas that the downtrodden project their hopes and fears upon. A sexual fantasy for the young and old woman, spinster and harlot alike. To the cowardly I am fearsome, to the brave I am self assured, and to the pure I am pure and the pretentious I am insecure. For that which is in me is not in me but is in you. I am me and you are you and you are not me.

Bitcoin is 10 years old, now all the people who use bitcoin will be trying to copulate with it

All people who like bitcoin are pedophiles who watch Star Trek. What's up with that?
Buy mothership $MSP if you don't support pedophilia.

Why I LOVE Mechanical Keyboards

It's true. I love Mechanical Keyboards. Why? Good question. You're probably wondering why I love Mechanical Keyboards. After all, why would you ask me this question if you didn't want to know why I LOVE Mechanical Keyboards. To ask me why I LOVE Mechanical Keyboards without wondering why I LOVE Mechanical Keyboards would be a foolish trifle and a waste of everybody's time. Nowadays there are far too many that speak and inquire without purpose and instead do so just to fill an internal vacuum and pass their time in frivolous excess.

I love Mechanical Keyboards because they make the click clack click clack click clack sound when I push the buttons, in addition to providing a tactile feel and weight to every press of a key. I also love the psychological impact this has on both me and those around me. I am God of the area when I tap tap tap and click clack click clack. Upon my command all attention is drawn to my fingers and those around me are unable to focus. It's a bit like screaming into the air in a public setting; just more subtle and even psychotic in the right scenarios.

Everybody knows that true power lies in pulling the strings of those around you without direct evidence or admission of the meaning behind your actions being deliberate. A mechanical keyboard is a tool in the arsenal of those that seek power and status, and the uninitiated will never understand what is meant by this statement. You either "get it" or you don't "get it."

Hypothetical question

What if a man spent his whole life saying he was heterosexual. Every time he would hang out with his friends they would tease him and say that he was homosexual, and every time he would insist that he was a heterosexual. He only liked women. He only had sex with women. He only kissed women and the thought of kissing a man made him feel sick in his stomach. He wasn't a homophobe, he just felt sick when he thought about kissing men because he was only attracted to kissing women. The thought of the man kissing another man was as foreign as kissing a cow or a horse. Still, everybody called him a homosexual. That cannot be correct, the man thought to himself, "I am only attracted to women!" Then, one day, the man is on his death bed. His friends come up to him and he asks them, "why do you insist on calling me a homosexual, even while I am here on my death bed about to die? don't you know that I am a heterosexual and am only attracted to women?" The friends look at the man and say "all those women you were attracted to were actually men and you were confused about what is a woman and what is a man. You have been kissing gay men and find gay men attractive and think men are women and women are men." The man dies a minute later, knowing he is a homosexual. What a crazy hypothetical situation. What does it all mean?

Some funny thoughts

Black people like iPhones


You're addicted to coffee? Get a real addiction like being addicted to bath salts

Somebody: i am addicted to nicotine
Me: The whites are at it again

"Have a very merry Christmas" First off, I'm Jewish.

Happy new year stupid pathetic white idiot goyi- I mean happy new year my friends and fellow white guys... hehe

It's 2019 and people still refuse to give me $3000 for tweeting

it's 2019 and people be taking pictures with their phone and making calls with their watch