I've got nothing against hallucinogenic drugs, mate. Nothing except they're immoral, they're a gateway to illegal narcotics, and half the time you end up mucking about until eleven at night and then wake up the next day and think oh lord what have I done not the pink jessops up the bum again.

F!) This essay is hardly average, granted it's not redefining anything we already don't know, but it's his last paper, and that's all I said. I didn't mention not one shred of anything similiar to all of the tripe you mentioned about me kissing his ass or anything like that. Which you just mechanically chirped through your vibrating duck neck above about me somehow putting more behind all of this than there is? I simply said last paper. Also, what have you got against hallucinogenic drugs by the way? Other than the fact that you are incapable of fully enjoying the benifit of a good creation based trip on mushrooms or peyote because you're handicapped and convinced you would not. You need a soft couch and a good hug my friend, I will pray for you. Do you not believe in me, as much as I believe in you?

Oh man, does <~> send erotic rejection letters? Why didn't you fucking say

B. no more no less than normal, maybe a touch down, why? Are you? C. Don't say "whatever" because, it's just a horribly overused and lame word as of late, please, thank you. D. Rhode Island is the smallest state in the Union. One could piss across it from the top of one's house. Try the Encyclopedia sport! cheerio.

f) As much as I enjoy Settle's poetry, this essay is just an average teenage essay about the evils of consumerism. It's intelligently written and vaguely interesting, but you apparently want to get it bound in silk and taffeta and hump the spine at night. You must find coherent, extended trains of thought completely bizarre and amazing, since your speciality is massive tirades of incoherent, loosely-connected mescaline-inspired nonsense. You've never sat down and read anything more involved or precise than a leaflet on coming into philip Symour hoffemane's eyeball.

A. Yes we are, and you know it, death is the transition into life. We haven't been born yet. Until we complete the Ten spheres. We have it all reversed, and that's why it eludes the modern mans mind, but believe me when I say, you are not alive yet. Anyway, enough with that nonsense since for now it's neither here nor there.

I'll give this comment a look over tonight when I have time to sit down and write. Then I'll work on the poem and repost. Thank you for the great comment...gives lots of ideas and information. *hats off to you*

Yah! I zero just because I wanted it...rock on like stinky gym socks! Yeah, on the other ones would be correct.

I know you vote on everything and I thank you for that. The comment isn't all important ALL the time. But most of us are here to share and get better. Hard to do that without comments saying whats wrong with the work.

A. No, no we're not. In the everyday sense of the word 'dead' by which we are not all dead, is it true that Settle is dead? B. Were you bumming? C. Whatever. D. I don't know. I'm not familiar with Rhode Island, its educational institutions or their admissions policies. Please tell me the name of his school, or I will assume you are lying about this whole thing.

Yes, good catch. Ishmael is one of those novels that has been absorbed into my thoughts on this subject (although I think Quinn's 'solution' is as false as our ability to do anything about the problem). When you are performing genetics, there is a "Parental" (P) line that gives birth to the "First Filial" (F1), who then gives birth to the "Second Filial" (F2), etc. The use of First Filial is intended to evoke the concept that nations and civilizations have heritable characteristics that can influence its utlimate fate (just as much as your genetics dictate the course of your life). *see 'meme' if you are interested in this line of thought.