You can now purchase tracks from Inhuman Genome Project
If you're interested in owning any tracks by The Inhuman Genome Project or I Am The Phantom, mp3's are now available for purchase at the official website.
If you're interested in owning any tracks by The Inhuman Genome Project or I Am The Phantom, mp3's are now available for purchase at the official website.
A man escapes from a prison where he's been locked up for 15 years. He breaks into a house to look for money and guns. Inside, he finds a young couple in bed. He orders the guy out of bed and ties him to a chair. While tying the homeowner's wife to the bed, the convict gets on top of her, kisses her neck, then gets up and goes into the bathroom. While he's in there, the husband whispers over to his wife: "Listen, this guy is an escaped convict. Look at his clothes! He's probably spent a lot of time in jail and hasn't seen a woman in years. I saw how he kissed your neck. If he wants sex, don't resist, don't complain, just do whatever he tells you. Satisfy him no matter how much he nauseates you. This guy is obviously very dangerous. If he gets angry, he'll kill us both. Be strong, honey. I love you!"
His wife responds: "He wasn't kissing my neck - he was whispering in my ear. He told me that he's gay, thinks you're cute, and asked if we had any Vaseline. I told him it was in the bathroom. Be strong. I love you, too."
The Inhuman Genome Project's official web site has been updated with new songs on the Listen page.
It is now broken down by project, and has a nice variety of songs, both old and new. Included is a "Play All" player with shuffle and repeat settings, in case you'd like to spend your entire day being reprogrammed.
Check out the new tracks here.
I Am The Phantom is an extremely experimental hip hop (of sorts) collaboration between myself, Squaw Music, and Ryan Dennler.
New tracks include Daily Progress and Gypsy Vagabond, two mellow songs guaranteed to turn your mind to gelatinous ooze.
This is one of many projects by the Inhuman Genome Project.
Skeletor was finally on the verge of defeating He-Man, and that meant it was time for commercials. Time for the long wait. Typically there were three commercials during each break, but sometimes they would fit as many as four, five, or more in, selling products that I would never care to own. I had watched a documentary about the underhanded psychological techniques used for marketing to children and their stressed out parents, and now I saw through every ploy.
Commercials killed the atmosphere, and stopped the momentum of the show I was watching. They pissed me off. I needed to get away. I needed to stay in the show without being dragged down by marketing. I had to be in the show I was watching.
I was never He-Man or any other character in a show. I was the unseen ninja who took care of the more dangerous enemies before they reached the characters. I worked covertly, without anyone ever noticing, so when the show came back from commercial, it would continue normally.
I was always me, but always in the future, or in a parallell universe. It was obvious to me that an older me of the future or an alternate plane would have explored and mastered the metaphysical realm, and would have powers beyond anyone's understanding. It was common for me to use one of the various psionic powers I could use to control the world around me using nothing but my mind.
I never enjoyed watching many shows . . . but all of my friends had gone. I made them uncomfortable, and I knew it. Everything we had in common had disappeared instantly the moment my sister's body was identified and the police had started their investigation into possible suspects. These aren't comfortable topics of conversation for 13 year old boys. I wasn't interested in their games, and they were uncomfortable. What could we possibly have talked about?
So I spent my time alone. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I practiced meditation, yoga, and martial arts techniques I had learned in books, determined to hone my mind to absolute perfection. I wanted to see into hidden places, and understand everything around me. Other times I went outside and ran around the remote woods and fields of Santa Fe around our house, fighting enemies, and hanging out with people from dimensions beyond our own. When I felt lazy, and was tired of my small collection of VHS tapes, I watched television.
That is how I found myself sitting on the couch, staring helplessly at the television as He-Man's fate hung in the balance, watching ridiculous commercials of children squirting each other incessently with cheap plastic water guns that I, too, could own for just $30 of my parents' money. I was bored with pretending, but I needed an escape.
That thought marked the moment when the walls turned to flame, and the floor crumbled beneath my feet. A deep rumbling sound came from the far corner of the room. As I watched, a massive demonic being stepped into the room and stood in the corner, as if stepping up to a podium. His skin was deep crimson, and his eyes were glowing embers set deep inside his misshapen skull. Just as one would expect, goat-like horns protruded from the sides of his head. A wall of assorted lights flashed colorfully in the background, resembling the set of Wheel of Fortune if it were played in hell. An audience of the damned sat enthralled in raised seats that had suddenly materialized all around us, their pale ghostly bodies writhing in pain, but with eyes glistening at the excitement of what was to come.
To the demon's side, bound in black steel chains, was the most contrasting image possible in this hellish chamber - my sister Tracy, standing strongly, but with sadness in her eyes as she looked down at me. I began to run to her, but was blocked by a wall of flame that burst from the floor.
"Not so fast," the Demon warned, "unless you want me to pull this lever. She'll fall into the abyss, and you'll never see her again."
"Don't believe him, Danny," my sister urged. "He has no power over me. This is an illusion. Don't do what he says."
The demon was quick to bring my attention back to him. "You will do what I say. You have no choice, and you'll know it as soon as I lay out the terms. Play my game, and you might walk away with her. Lose my game, or refuse to play, and this all will disappear, and you will never see either one of us again."
Tracy was shaking her head, pleading with me not to play.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I asked the demon.
"You don't. I may be lying. But you'll play, because . . . what if I'm telling the truth?"
I looked back at Tracy, helpless to move in her tightly locked confines. It occurred to me that the pain in her eyes was not for her own fate, but for me. She wanted to help me. It wasn't that she had no fear, but that despite her own fear of eternal suffering in an endless abyss, and despite the lack of danger I faced, she was more immediately concerned with the mental anguish I would face if I couldn't save her.
As if reading my thoughts, she nodded. "He won't let you win, and then you'll have to live with the guilt for the rest of your life. You'll have to go back to Mom and Dad and try to act normal, but you'll feel guilty every time they cry for me. You'll spend the rest of your life wondering if you had been just a little bit better, if you could have saved me. Just close your eyes, and when you open them again, this will all be gone."
I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. The demon was right. I would play. That's why he wasn't arguing - he didn't need to. Just for this last bit of time I would spend with my sister, it didn't matter if the game was rigged. I had to try, even if it meant living with the guilt of losing.
I thought of my parents, and of my other sister, and I knew the pain they were feeling. My mind wandered, and I imagined their expressions when they came home to find Tracy sitting in the living room, talking to me. I saw the tears in their eyes, and their mouths moving to speak words that just wouldn't form. I imagined the days following, and the time we would all spend together, feeling no emotions other than joy and relief. I imagined Michael, Tracy's newborn son, back in her arms, smiling without quite knowing why, only that he felt the familiar arms around him, and heard the familiar voice that had talked to him every day since the day she had found out she was pregnant. I had to bring Tracy back to make my family whole again.
"What do you want me to do?" I felt a strange confidence that surprised me. My voice sounded stronger than usual, and it seemed to surprise the demon. It was the confidence of a person who had lost everything that could be taken away. Loss only meant being in the same place I was yesterday.
It was time to begin. The challenge, when he spoke it, felt like a trick. It was oddly simple. He simply told me to make myself a bowl of cereal. I realized I was getting hungry. As I considered what type of cereal I was in the mood for, my sister spoke up, "He didn't tell you it's timed. When the commercials end, this all goes away."
Immediately I sprinted into the kitchen with my sister's voice behind me, "And if you spill anything, you lose!" I found myself with a new determination and focus, moving with a speed and coordination I had never experienced. In the space of a single commercial, I had run into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl from the cubbard, filled the bowl with cereal, poured in a perfect amount of milk, sprinkled on some sugar, grabbed a spoon, and was running back into the room as the commercial faded to black. I leaped completely over the couch with filled bowl of cereal and milk in tow, and never spilled a drop. As He-Man resumed, I was sitting on the couch with a spoon in my mouth.
As Tracy had warned me, the hellish scene faded out as the television show faded in - and with it went my visitors. Tracy was gone. It was no great surprise that the demon had lied, but that did nothing to diminish the pain. I was sure that anyone could be defeated, even a supernatural demonic being. It's simply a matter of finding the right strategy. Despite the stakes, I had failed.
The next day, around the same time, the demon returned, along with Tracy and the entire cast of curious apparitions. I had won the first round, he explained, but the next rounds would get progressively more difficult. I would not know how often, when, or how many trials I have would have to pass before being victorious. Objections to his rules, he told me, would be equivalent to a forfeit.
And so it went. Occasionally I would be in a store, and there he would appear, calling on me to get out of the store without ever taking a step shorter than 3 tile lengths, and without ever taking a diagonal step. When I was walking through the woods he would rise before me in a plume of smoke to challenge me to climb a high tree and reach a precarious point on a distant branch before the last bit of sun disappeared over the horizon.
The rule was quite clear: If I were to ever fail a single task, the game would end. I had to perform every task with speed and precision. One misstep could mean losing my sister forever. It was too much pressure for a boy who was only thirteen years old, but every time I thought the challenge might be too great, I simply remembered the image of my family reunited . . . the looks on everyone's faces when I brought her back with me. I couldn't fail. I didn't fail.
No challenge was too great. I succeeded at every task laid before me. The demon became more and more infuriated, and I found myself running faster, jumping higher, and doing things more efficiently than I ever had. I knew I had defeated him, and so did he.
That was when the demon stopped appearing, and so did my sister.
Oh Anna Nicole... Why did you have to die so young? Your skin was still so smooth, your breasts so large and firm. You were as thin as an anorexic teenage cheerleader. Your face was permanently molded into that camera-ready smile. Surely you were in good health.
But alas, it's true. Anna Nicole Smith has passed away at the age of 39.
Yet, as enormous an impact that her passing will undoubtedly have on the world, there is an even bigger story - that there is no other news today. Nothing else important happened. At least, nothing nearly so important as Anna's death.
CNN has devoted the day to her death. As I watch, reporters and news personalities are listening in their earpieces for updates and talking urgently every time there is something new to report. Giant "BREAKING NEWS" graphics are splashing across the screen. Scheduled guests on Larry King Live were booted instantly to make room for Anna Nicole Smith to be covered for the entire show.
They're not stopping there. No single human life will pass unnoticed. For the next 274 years, CNN will devote each and every day to one of the 100,000 Iraqi civilians who have died because of the US invasion.
Let us just hope that the world can recover from this grave loss to humankind.
Instead of trying to prove that the Lord does or does not exist, I'd like to put this argument into an entirely new context - a wager.
If I were an odds maker, this one would be simple. You have two choices, and two possible outcomes.
Your choices: Belief / Disbelief
Possible outcomes: There is a God / There is NOT a God
The key to good gambling is the effective analysis of risk versus reward. What do I have to gain if I win? What do I have to lose if I lose? What are my chances?
So with that in mind, let's break it down:
Belief / There is a God: If you believe, and it turns out there is a God, then he's an asshole for not just telling you, and you're probably better off spending eternity with that other guy who tried so hard to get through to you all these years.
Belief / There is NOT a God: If you believe, and there is no God . . . Wow, what a waste of a human life. You could have been out there solving life's mysteries, but instead you were fooled into thinking you already had them solved. It's a shame for all of us . . . perhaps you would have been just the scientist we needed to save us from all the Christians and their self-fulfilling prophecies.
Disbelief / There is a God: At least you didn't give your life for the guy. You dodged the bullet, my friend.
Disbelief / There is NOT a God: We're all in luck! You spent your life questioning things you didn't understand, and perhaps solved a few problems in the process. You contributed, and that's what's important. Now, we can progress and evolve as a race, free from dogma and doctrine-imposed morality.
And how about those chances? Well, considering how many Gods people believe in, choosing the right one seems to be the real long shot. But let's assume we could all agree on one God, and that all that matters is that a god of some sort exists. The chances, if we're to believe our senses, research, and logic, are about as good as me being Him.
My point... Just believe in me. God doesn't gamble.
I hope everybody got some poontang* to bring in the New Year!
* Bad word for pussy
This is Part 2 of my "Kill the Television" series. I'll be performing lectures and teaching workshops with a megaphone each weekend on the corner of East and 2nd.
"Television Is Bad Parenting"
If you found that title offensive, it's likely that you're a bad parent. So now that the offense is out of the way, we can move on.
If you're a parent, or might become one, please don't glaze over yet. Hear me out.
It all starts with evolution. Because of evolution, humans are social creatures - a necessity for survival when you don't have venomous fangs or claws. In order to work as teams, our ancestors were forced to develop a collective agreement on what's real, what is right and wrong, what's important in life, and what's best for mankind. Those agreements are, to some degree, built into our nature, but with development of technology there comes a time when we should stop and reassess the ways in which we've been programmed.
Consider the work of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a research psychologist, regarding what he refers to as "Flow". Flow is the same as what athletes would call being in the zone. You're facing a challenge, and although your skills are up to the job, it requires total and absolute concentration. Every ounce of your attention is on the task at hand, because distractions could mean failure. Csikszentmihalyi found that people feel best about themselves and most satisfied with their lives when they experience this state on a regular basis. Anyone who has ever achieved this state of mind (which is most of us) can attest to its effects, but most of us don't know how to achieve it at will.
Csikszentmihalyi's research has only uncovered one solid way to accomplish this, and that is to constantly challenge yourself, and to constantly improve.
So it seems that the optimal state of man occurs when he is constantly striving for improvement, as individuals and as a species . . . constantly pushing himself, constantly raising the bar, facing new challenges, accumulating knowledge and wisdom, and improving. A life of ease and comfort is probably what most people are aiming for, but studies have consistently shown that people are least content with their lives when they're doing passive activities, like watching the television. People enjoy life when they're doing something meaningful. You might enjoy watching your favorite shows, but when you weigh that against the things you could be achieving with the television off, the comparison is clear.
Here's my personal experience:
Several years ago, I moved into a new place and decided for the immediate future to forsake my cable television. It was supposed to be temporary. I had a lot to get done, and had to stay focused. I didn't want any distractions.
I assumed it would be tough and that I would be ordering cable in a matter of days, but I was wrong. For a day or so I wasn't sure what to do other than to make some music. So I sat in my home studio and worked for days straight. At first I would get tired after a while and want to take a break . . . and I had no idea what to do. I didn't want to stop the momentum; I just didn't have the energy left. So I stared at a wall until finally I got bored and went back in the studio. When I left the house, at least a small piece of my mind would always be looking for inspiration. I bought a digital voice recorder so that I could record ideas any time they came to me. Within a few weeks I had a collection of ideas so extensive that I'll never be able to finish them all.
This is my point: Removing the single largest offender of time waste creates a vacuum that has to be filled. You're not going to stare at the wall forever, and neither will your child. Your mind will get bored and look for ideas, and soon you'll be doing something different to fill your time. Whatever that thing is, surely it will be better for you than televegetating. If it happens to be something productive, that's even better.
Would anybody possibly disagree with the opinion that mankind would be better off if we lived our lives in this way, constantly learning and creating challenges rather than sitting in front of the television? If we agree on that much, then how can you possibly justify putting your child in front of a television set? Do you think that if your child has no television, he or she won't find something else to do? Maybe when deprived of television, children will go out and play with some friends. Maybe they'll get some exercise. Maybe children will begin reading books, like they used to do in ancient times. They may want to take some lessons in something. Maybe they'll do some thinking.
I'm not saying this is all without risk, though . . . it may force you to spend more time with them.
This is Part 1 of my "Kill the Television" series. I'll be performing lectures and teaching workshops with a megaphone each weekend on the corner of East and 2nd.
I'd like to try a little experiment that just might do some good in the world. If it works, we could start an epidemic that could lead to enhanced creativity, renewed motivation, a leap in understanding, the fall of our governments, a loss of prejudice, and maybe even the salvation of mankind himself.
The experiment is simple. I merely want all of my readers to cancel their cable television and unhook any antennas. Call now and cancel. It's that simple.
Hook up that dvd player. Relax and watch a movie. Eat some popcorn. Just stay away from those channels.
"But I can't watch movies 24 hours a day for two weeks straight! What am I supposed to do?" I honestly don't care. Stare at a wall. Look at porno. Even better, go camping. Write a book. Make a porno. Hug your family. Meditate. Learn to play the sitar. Invent a gadget. Still need ideas? Because I haven't watched tv in months - I can do this all day!
Once two weeks have passed, I'd like for you to write me regarding your experiences. Most likely you will inform me that the addiction has been broken, and you will thank me for freeing you of the chains that have kept you enslaved. Your new heightened intelligence quotient will help you to not only defeat and escape the slavemaster yourself, but to build underground railroads for all of your friends.
Just taste the freedom for two weeks. See how it feels.