Jake Allen’s Ockhamist.com

I was off from work yesterday, and wrote a bizarre narrative. The main character rants about his failure to be normal. In all his relationships, he swings from remarkable service to unmatched manipulation. He finds himself to be, in all categories of morality or aptitude, either a zero or hero, unable to interface properly with the mediocrity around him. He calls himself “U”, which simultaneously represents Übermensch and and an upside-down bell curve (clever, huh?). It also represents Lewis’ empty cup, but I left that out because one double sign vehicle was enough, I figure. He descends into hedonism, kind of like a modern Dostoevsky character, only to find out that serving the passions doesn’t satisfy him. That man is ultimately cruel, and I don’t like him.

It’s an extreme projection of myself, of course. I’ll just sit here and finish watching the Country Music Awards rather than share it with you . . . Keith Urban’s accent hasn’t gotten any better since I saw him in concert . . . don’t want any of you to get the wrong ideas about my own mediocrity!

Madness!