Christmas cards comes in three amazing varieties: premium, classic, and flat. The premium cards are eight inches by five and a half inches folded, the classic cards are five inches by seven inches folded, and last but certainly not least, the flat cards are eight and a quarter inches by four inches. The Photo Christmas Cards come in the same dimensions, but offer you the amazing ability to put pictures of your loved ones– or anything that you enjoy– to be placed on the front. Imagine mailing cards with a picture of your brand new Porsche to all of your friends and family this Christmas. Sounds good to me!

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The algid iron of the park bench felt like ice cutting into my back. It was nippy for an April night; the crescent moon grinned above me, like a ubiquitous growl over all the city. It’s pale light slipped through the branches of the willow trees. It laid haphazardly upon the cobblestone ground. The moon and I: two lonely drifters, orbiting around an uncaring planet, united for a few moments to give each other company. The wind washed over my feet. The grass moved in undulations. The street lamp flickered, and the fruit flies exploded on its touch. Soon the light would die. Soon we all would. I hoped that it would stay lit long enough for me to get through the current chapter. It was an intriguing play. It seemed to parallel my life in some ominous way. But that is another story, for another time and place. The yelping of an angry car alarm distracts me– All eyes are on you now!– it seems to say. The wind was being insubordinate; it grabbed the pages from my fingers and slammed them backwards. I decided that nature should have its wish. So I shut the book. It’s time for a break. After a struggle, I grabbed a filterless cigarette from within my burnt sienna micro-suede sports jacket and successfully lit it. Instantly, after drawing a few puffs, the nicotine flooded my brain. The wild white wisps floated into the sky, untamed. They dissipated into infinity, undergoing innumerable changes in their plight. This is the story of our lives– if we are lucky!But I am the curious type. The act was just too engaging. I ran my hands across the red Moroccan leather cover, and fingered my way throughout the book until I arrived where I had left off. And then the heavens wept. Within fifteen seconds, a slight mist became a torrential downpour. My cigarette was abruptly snuffed; it became soggy and limp. We always die before our time. The ink began to run; my book became illegible. One moment a masterful work of art and soul; the next moment a lifeless mass of pulp of fluid. Yet the heavens were indifferent; perhaps they had just slobbered and drooled with boredom. It is hard to impress the eternal, and my mediocrity was appalling. As soon as it had begun, it was over. It was one of those days that you wish you had never stepped outside at all. But what is this that is see shimmering on the ground? Like some microcosmic sun sitting atop a cobblestone tile, it flares under the light. A knife? A diamond ring? Or maybe just a bottle cap? As I have said– I am the curious type. I must go pick it up. Who knows? Whatever it is, it could change my life. So I get up. But then I sit back down. I cannot allow myself to be a slave to my curiosity (for then I would be a scientist). No, no, no. I must see what it is. As I approach it, I notice it is a quarter. Not a bicentennial quarter– which I am very fond of– but a regular eagle-back quarter. Could be worse. Could’ve been a thumbtack, or a rattle snake. Plus, even if it’s only a quarter, who doesn’t mind a free quarter of a dollar? I’d never touch a dime, but a quarter is a quarter. I lean down. I grab it. It does not move. This is a heavy quarter. It is heavier than the Earth itself. No, no, no. It’s glued to the ground. What in Hell is this? Whose idea is this? And then it all goes to hell. I hear the shrill ghetto laughter. Three urban teenage boys are hiding behind the bushes. They laugh at me until their faces are blue. They roll across the grass, intoxicated with silliness. I was going to cry. But then I realized that I had my gun. I pulled out my .38 special and shot them. I shot the first one in the face, and the other two in the back (they had tried to run away). It was so funny. You should have seen it. The cops must have heard the gunshots (this is odd as they are usually listening to Bruce Springsteen behind the Wal-Mart on Mainstreet at this hour and are in a far far far away world– too far away to hear gunshots). Red and blue is all around me. But it’s not frightening. It’s more like some disco-dance party in the middle of the park. They get our of their car, guns pointed, tell me to get the fuck on the ground. They approach me and start laughing. They pick me up off the ground, tell me to tell them the story. I tell them. They say what I did was wrong. Said I’m going to jail. For a real long time. Maybe my whole life. I’m about to break down into tears. But then they say they’re just kidding. So I got into the cop car and they brought me to get some ice cream. We all had a really fun time and laughed a lot until the late hours. I even got to flash the sirens at some fat people. I scared the shit out of them.

Violence is inextricably related to cohesion as a means of cohesive creation:

Ex) The bloody destruction of many local rulers as a means of cohesive creation for the foundation of a unified political state under one king; the violent repudiation of polytheism and ultimate synthesis into monotheism; the violent release of energy which is seen in the mix of two chemical compounds which will ultimately result in one.

While certain instances of violence may seem to ostensibly dissolve their subjects instead of bind them, this is only on a superficial level:

Ex) In the violent instance of a man killing another man for incompatibility in political agenda, it may seem as though this act violates my redefinition of violence; however, while the death of the receiving subject of violence can be quantified as a negative integer in the realm of cohesive identity, on the macroscopic level, the incident as a whole will be quantified as a positive gain because it will result in an inhibition of the cohesive identity being removed, and therefore an ultimately positive gain in the cohesive identity.

Thus, the perennial quest for world domination is nothing but a manifestation of the principle of cohesive identity.

(One may now understand why Nietzsche’s Will To Power is actually a will to perversion and dissolution– by exacerbating the creative and moral idiosyncrasy of oneself, one becomes an aberration in the cohesive identity of the whole and therefore inconducive. This is why Nietzche’s beliefs have historically been vehemently dismissed; though they make sense to the individual, the individual ultimately means nothing if not connected to the whole.)

So now you may be able to answer the question for yourself:

If you ask– “Is violence always destructive?”– then you have not understood me

If you say–”Violence is never destructive. It is only ostensibly destructive on a microcosmic level, but will ultimately lead to unification.”– you have understood me.

Thus, we must reexamine our definition of the word violence, as seemingly benign and beneficent things such as religious and political proselytization are always inherently violent.

I propose that violence is not only fundamental and inexorable, but laudable.

-CJM

That anyone did

For me in my life

Was hand me a gun

As an answer to

The question I had

Asked

-Cody McCurdy

Sure he knew
Apollo hollow,
But he never
Fixed the itch
With aloe.

For this I must
Regard him shallow