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Respect for Women
I started to post this in the "Are you a redneck?" thread but decided to start another one. And yes, I reckon I'm a redneck. Tonight I was sitting outside in the RV park drinking a few beers at my neighbors listening to him and his cousin, who I had just met telling Mexican jokes. (They are both Mexicans in there 50's). Old south Texas beer drinking ranch hand construction workers. My wife walked up, and the cousin took off his ol sweaty cowboy hat, held it to his chest with one hand and extended his other to my wife and introduced his self. After a few more beers and we were leaving, he took off his hat and said "Nice to meet you maam".
When we got home my wife was talking about how that hat removal gesture was something you don't see much anymore. I'll admit I don't do it but I believe I will the next time I meet a lady. I think that would be the redneck way. |
People still wear hats?? [roll]
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I honestly don't take my hat off for the ladies, but I do for the Pledge of Allegiance. And it irks me about those that don't.[director]
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The whole generosity thing comes off as corny anymore.
Then again, the entire infatuation-/ intrusive affection-/ unwanted attention- angle doesn't really work either, so I;m not the best to give advise. :( Because, you see, there is a point in every man's life where he comes to the epipheny that the ambition which has driven him to that point is an unending source of anxiety and will never allow him to be satisfied. As a result the mind exiles all faith he had once held in ambition, and so he no longer holds hope that he may find his own success. The lack of hope drives the man into a despair which he finds salvation from when the exiled fragment of his mind is viewed externally and conflated with a sufficiently beautiful woman. This faith/ hope/ beauty entity is a creation of the mind, but due to the mind's convictions against ambition, the mind sees it as an external figure; therefore, the mind eagarly attracts itself towards the entity and merges with it in a marriage of utmost necessity and loyalty, even though the actual figure of the marriage is nothing more than a excised-and-returned facet of himself. Yet he still cannot deny those vows which he held dear in the face of success and pushes for the real woman, whom he unreally has within him at any point of time, and despite the ecstasy of her figure he slowly falls back into despair upon realization that time is the great limiter of his feelings. This depression now exists parallel a great bliss, and is now compounded with the contradict between the oaths of non-ambition and vows of marriage; the mind reaches a hellish revelation and Satanic dilemma as he realizes that what he feels is against the interest for the woman who inspires his life, the woman who he seeks for inspiration is in fact himself, and the helping of himself is opposed by all his convictions. To abandon any conviction is the breaking of something held within him as essentially holy; his soul, by not being able to see itself in the mirror of what is truely beautiful, has become built upon foundations contradictary at the most basic levels. And despite their apparent utopian qualities they are crumbling at an ever increasing level, and as the soul crumbles the man reaches an even greater despair, realizing that the love he found such strength and beauty and inspiration in was never true and that all of his past emotions and thoughts were void, and in a moment of infinities he trades his soul to the Devil himself in exchange for never again seeing the beauty which has placed him in such a Hellish Heaven on Earth. And then the man is dead; all thought which built him into the dilemma initially is gone, all perception of beauty that he cannot reach is gone, all hope for finding that which he abdicated is gone as he realized his place amongst demons, all of his past and potential success is gone as he realizes everything that he did was a conspiracy to land him in permanent depression. He looses his ability to pray, altough he doubts whether or not he ever prayed, for his idol of most of his years was not God but a diety of the flesh and his own mind, conflated for the very purpose of letting himself experience the divine. But then he thinks; how is it that I can find God in myself and my faux relationship with a dream, and is this not religion? Is ambition not religion, as much as inspiration and love and loyalty to pride? But then it is much too late, as all his wants and abilities to want and hopes to want are removed, and the inspirations allowing him to live "because" and not "for" have abdicated (for he sold them to the Devil, remember), and he comes to the conclusion that there is never an actual conclusion, and so he dies sooner or later. And then he listens to Bob Dylan for a moment's reprieve while saying, "I'm going to graduate High School and go to College", but he does not want it, for he is in fact walking death, yet he does it anyway out of habit. The skies are dark, and the hope is hopeless, yet it is still there for some uncomprehendable reason, as if it wasn't comprehension and Descartesian thinking in the first place that didn't lead to these damnations in the first place. What is this hope for salvation which wells within me, the deepest radiations of my soul that lead to the energy which pushes me through Hell; are they Jesus, are they some habit of love that I did not give to the Devil, or is it, it is, yes, a fate to do that which I would do anyways. For in freedom, which Christ does love, one has the illusion that he may do whatever he may, but he always will do the same thing; he is lashed to the mast of the ship, and can only blow against the wind to change directions, for he cannot reach the wheel. And how he blows, trying to reach that which will let him abdicate his post in exchange for the tempest tossed seas, that he is in anyways; but even that he cannot do. They say that there is no hero in his tragedy, no salute for his surrender, no daring in his escape and nothing noble in his fate, but Christ, what has HE done? Where is that? What has been done? Fate? Deism? What can one do in face of powers such as ambition and inspiration; what is one, what can one do but to think? And then one inhales Powerservice and nearly drops out of school and spends a month without DTR and nothing is changed, he is still the slave to externalities, even if those externalities are nothing but primal emotions within himself that are conflated with externalities. And so the cycle repeats on so many levels, compounding in boundless facets, and his tortued light gives forth rays that are suffusive illusions, and pull his own sails in all directions at once; and his point of view looks as though he is getting somewhere, but instead he is just going hovering in the ether between the 0 and the 1, for he did commit suicide didn't he? And he existance is nothing but a puppet, that thinks about his place but cannot alter it; yet perhaps the puppet and understanding thereof is a transcendence, for perhaps he was always hellspawn and always dead. Yes, perhaps the death of the soul was nothing more than a birth and renaissance, for it wasn't anything to begin with; simply no more can he see beauty sufficient for bliss. Yet those are just more damnable vows, are they not? Thank you Petrarch, for glorifying limerance; thank you Laura, for doing everything to respond to his unaffected affections in his best interest, although you didn't act in his anymore than he acted in yours; oh how he acted in yours. And still, abandoning that he reaches Britttey Janssen, and despite all vows makes the same vows once agiain, and the vows against his vows wrench apart his soul once more; and from Anna-Leigh to Faith it occurs again; how is the name of the woman resulting in the destruction of all my faith named "FAITH"; what cruel irony is this, my dearest Laura who will always inhabit my mind in the vacuum left behind when the Devil took Faith, and then you; is any part of my mind left? Or was it ever left? Is a mind any more than predistination through the application of freedom? Why is it a sin, to view the world and see contentment in everything, perfection in everything; why is it a sin to not see the slightest ambition; and to have destroyed all your inspirations in exchange for that contentment, to leave you're prefect utopia of infintesmal duration for a contentedness of infinity, and a purgatory which is the best one can hope for; why did you do that? Because you must, because we all do in every microcosm of every action and emotion which is the whim of our own thoughts, the most dangerous things present, that cannot be undermined accept through the embracing of the very emotions and dedicatinons and convictions every single one of them are against. What one can is irrevelant; on a corollary, notice how "want" is ingrained in our language? We want something, we want to have it; we don't want something, then we want to not have it; how do we genuinely not want? I do, but it is such a curse amongst the Hell of the world; it is to see the perfect Heaven in every Hell to be the anti-christ isn't it? Am I condemned to always live in this infintesmally miniscule yet infinite-to-my-eyes ecstasy? What is woman but that within my own mind that I have a desire for, j'ai un desiree' un' la fille? Is that such a sin on par with finding beauty in that which doesn't exist, to have faith in the ability to have more than faith; where do you go that's controllable? It's all done, it's all over, and all ecstasy is reached: what do you do from there but live in death and repeat the supplications to Laura Murillo again and again and again as the depths of your own self respond with echoes of vows made to the Christ and anti-christ of yourself, and your feelings and emotions are abdicated along with your faiths, and you retire ultimately, either etre, or ne pas etre ma belle Laura; Petrarch, you are being right here, but where is the absence of being that I am here feeling in your shade? |
Originally Posted by Begle1
(Post 1279431)
The whole generosity thing comes off as corny anymore.
Then again, the entire infatuation-/ intrusive affection-/ unwanted attention- angle doesn't really work either, so I;m not the best to give advise. :( Because, you see, there is a point in every man's life where he comes to the epipheny that the ambition which has driven him to that point is an unending source of anxiety and will never allow him to be satisfied. As a result the mind exiles all faith he had once held in ambition, and so he no longer holds hope that he may find his own success. The lack of hope drives the man into a despair which he finds salvation from when the exiled fragment of his mind is viewed externally and conflated with a sufficiently beautiful woman. This faith/ hope/ beauty entity is a creation of the mind, but due to the mind's convictions against ambition, the mind sees it as an external figure; therefore, the mind eagarly attracts itself towards the entity and merges with it in a marriage of utmost necessity and loyalty, even though the actual figure of the marriage is nothing more than a excised-and-returned facet of himself. Yet he still cannot deny those vows which he held dear in the face of success and pushes for the real woman, whom he unreally has within him at any point of time, and despite the ecstasy of her figure he slowly falls back into despair upon realization that time is the great limiter of his feelings. This depression now exists parallel a great bliss, and is now compounded with the contradict between the oaths of non-ambition and vows of marriage; the mind reaches a hellish revelation and Satanic dilemma as he realizes that what he feels is against the interest for the woman who inspires his life, the woman who he seeks for inspiration is in fact himself, and the helping of himself is opposed by all his convictions. To abandon any conviction is the breaking of something held within him as essentially holy; his soul, by not being able to see itself in the mirror of what is truely beautiful, has become built upon foundations contradictary at the most basic levels. And despite their apparent utopian qualities they are crumbling at an ever increasing level, and as the soul crumbles the man reaches an even greater despair, realizing that the love he found such strength and beauty and inspiration in was never true and that all of his past emotions and thoughts were void, and in a moment of infinities he trades his soul to the Devil himself in exchange for never again seeing the beauty which has placed him in such a Hellish Heaven on Earth. And then the man is dead; all thought which built him into the dilemma initially is gone, all perception of beauty that he cannot reach is gone, all hope for finding that which he abdicated is gone as he realized his place amongst demons, all of his past and potential success is gone as he realizes everything that he did was a conspiracy to land him in permanent depression. He looses his ability to pray, altough he doubts whether or not he ever prayed, for his idol of most of his years was not God but a diety of the flesh and his own mind, conflated for the very purpose of letting himself experience the divine. But then he thinks; how is it that I can find God in myself and my faux relationship with a dream, and is this not religion? Is ambition not religion, as much as inspiration and love and loyalty to pride? But then it is much too late, as all his wants and abilities to want and hopes to want are removed, and the inspirations allowing him to live "because" and not "for" have abdicated (for he sold them to the Devil, remember), and he comes to the conclusion that there is never an actual conclusion, and so he dies sooner or later. And then he listens to Bob Dylan for a moment's reprieve while saying, "I'm going to graduate High School and go to College", but he does not want it, for he is in fact walking death, yet he does it anyway out of habit. The skies are dark, and the hope is hopeless, yet it is still there for some uncomprehendable reason, as if it wasn't comprehension and Descartesian thinking in the first place that didn't lead to these damnations in the first place. What is this hope for salvation which wells within me, the deepest radiations of my soul that lead to the energy which pushes me through Hell; are they Jesus, are they some habit of love that I did not give to the Devil, or is it, it is, yes, a fate to do that which I would do anyways. For in freedom, which Christ does love, one has the illusion that he may do whatever he may, but he always will do the same thing; he is lashed to the mast of the ship, and can only blow against the wind to change directions, for he cannot reach the wheel. And how he blows, trying to reach that which will let him abdicate his post in exchange for the tempest tossed seas, that he is in anyways; but even that he cannot do. They say that there is no hero in his tragedy, no salute for his surrender, no daring in his escape and nothing noble in his fate, but Christ, what has HE done? Where is that? What has been done? Fate? Deism? What can one do in face of powers such as ambition and inspiration; what is one, what can one do but to think? And then one inhales Powerservice and nearly drops out of school and spends a month without DTR and nothing is changed, he is still the slave to externalities, even if those externalities are nothing but primal emotions within himself that are conflated with externalities. And so the cycle repeats on so many levels, compounding in boundless facets, and his tortued light gives forth rays that are suffusive illusions, and pull his own sails in all directions at once; and his point of view looks as though he is getting somewhere, but instead he is just going hovering in the ether between the 0 and the 1, for he did commit suicide didn't he? And he existance is nothing but a puppet, that thinks about his place but cannot alter it; yet perhaps the puppet and understanding thereof is a transcendence, for perhaps he was always hellspawn and always dead. Yes, perhaps the death of the soul was nothing more than a birth and renaissance, for it wasn't anything to begin with; simply no more can he see beauty sufficient for bliss. Yet those are just more damnable vows, are they not? Thank you Petrarch, for glorifying limerance; thank you Laura, for doing everything to respond to his unaffected affections in his best interest, although you didn't act in his anymore than he acted in yours; oh how he acted in yours. And still, abandoning that he reaches Britttey Janssen, and despite all vows makes the same vows once agiain, and the vows against his vows wrench apart his soul once more; and from Anna-Leigh to Faith it occurs again; how is the name of the woman resulting in the destruction of all my faith named "FAITH"; what cruel irony is this, my dearest Laura who will always inhabit my mind in the vacuum left behind when the Devil took Faith, and then you; is any part of my mind left? Or was it ever left? Is a mind any more than predistination through the application of freedom? Why is it a sin, to view the world and see contentment in everything, perfection in everything; why is it a sin to not see the slightest ambition; and to have destroyed all your inspirations in exchange for that contentment, to leave you're prefect utopia of infintesmal duration for a contentedness of infinity, and a purgatory which is the best one can hope for; why did you do that? Because you must, because we all do in every microcosm of every action and emotion which is the whim of our own thoughts, the most dangerous things present, that cannot be undermined accept through the embracing of the very emotions and dedicatinons and convictions every single one of them are against. What one can is irrevelant; on a corollary, notice how "want" is ingrained in our language? We want something, we want to have it; we don't want something, then we want to not have it; how do we genuinely not want? I do, but it is such a curse amongst the Hell of the world; it is to see the perfect Heaven in every Hell to be the anti-christ isn't it? Am I condemned to always live in this infintesmally miniscule yet infinite-to-my-eyes ecstasy? What is woman but that within my own mind that I have a desire for, j'ai un desiree' un' la fille? Is that such a sin on par with finding beauty in that which doesn't exist, to have faith in the ability to have more than faith; where do you go that's controllable? It's all done, it's all over, and all ecstasy is reached: what do you do from there but live in death and repeat the supplications to Laura Murillo again and again and again as the depths of your own self respond with echoes of vows made to the Christ and anti-christ of yourself, and your feelings and emotions are abdicated along with your faiths, and you retire ultimately, either etre, or ne pas etre ma belle Laura; Petrarch, you are being right here, but where is the absence of being that I am here feeling in your shade? |
I think I'll wait for the Reader's Digest version,,,,,,,,,,,,, [eyecrazy]
BTW Begle,,,,, You really should try the spell check option if you're going to compose these novels. :p [laugh] |
I was going to deciper it, but I don't want to jack up and offend Beagle.
I got it, Beagle. (for the most part) Need to talk, buddy? I'm here for you. Back on the origional subject, I think that respect for women as a whole has went down the tubes. Heck, repect for each other in gereral has took a crap. Don't cost nothin to be nice to someone. |
I think Begle1 is getting into the pool cleaning chemicals again.[whistle]
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Originally Posted by Geico266
(Post 1279592)
I think Begle1 is getting into the pool cleaning chemicals again.[whistle]
chaikwa. |
Originally Posted by Begle1
(Post 1279431)
And then one inhales Powerservice and nearly drops out of school and spends a month without DTR and nothing is changed.
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Originally Posted by boiler-rat
(Post 1279210)
My wife walked up, and the cousin took off his ol sweaty cowboy hat, held it to his chest with one hand and extended his other to my wife and introduced his self. After a few more beers and we were leaving, he took off his hat and said "Nice to meet you maam".
When we got home my wife was talking about how that hat removal gesture was something you don't see much anymore. I'll admit I don't do it but I believe I will the next time I meet a lady. I think that would be the redneck way. [coffee] |
Originally Posted by boiler-rat
(Post 1279210)
I started to post this in the "Are you a redneck?" thread but decided to start another one. And yes, I reckon I'm a redneck. Tonight I was sitting outside in the RV park drinking a few beers at my neighbors listening to him and his cousin, who I had just met telling Mexican jokes. (They are both Mexicans in there 50's). Old south Texas beer drinking ranch hand construction workers. My wife walked up, and the cousin took off his ol sweaty cowboy hat, held it to his chest with one hand and extended his other to my wife and introduced his self. After a few more beers and we were leaving, he took off his hat and said "Nice to meet you maam".
When we got home my wife was talking about how that hat removal gesture was something you don't see much anymore. I'll admit I don't do it but I believe I will the next time I meet a lady. I think that would be the redneck way. |
I grew up in an area where ANY adult would smack ya upside the head for NOT holding the door for a lady, or saying "sir" and "ma'am"..... raised my boys the same way.....only thing about our folk is the man goes through the door FIRST.... why send your women into a building/room untill you know whats in there and that its safe for them? Somethign y'all taiboka(euro-descendents) got backwards to our thinking.
I dont tip my hat unlessits a stranger I am meeting for the first time, but I do still say "ma'am" and hold the door. Chivalry and manners aint dead, but it is a disappearing art,sad to say. I do saddle the BOSS's horse for her, but only because she is too slow at it....[laugh] |
I guess this really makes me old school... or at least, just old.
I still pull out the chair for my wife to sit down at the table. I still unlock and open the car door(s) for women first. I still hold doors open to any woman entering/leaving a building. And if I wore a hat, Id still remove it indoors, around the women, and for the Pledge of Allegiance. Im teaching my kids the same. Guess I am just old. Rich |
the whole hat taking off opening doors went out with the bras??? you know the whole womens lib. equel rights stuff, not that i agree with it but it did,after my deevose the first couple dates i was a gentleman and open doors and did the right stuff as momma said to do i case it was great, the other it offended her so i guess just been careful !!!!! they are women lolol
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