Extremists and Other Extremities

Extremists and Other Extremities

                                                                                                     By Tim Uhr

            Follow your body… lose your mind. To lift weights -- or to read a book, my choice was as easy as the choice between a dumbbell and a scholar. My choices were clear, but my answers were opaque. As I wrestled the choice over in my mind, I grew weary and fell asleep.

Was my body seeking sleep as a form of rest, or was my mind searching to find new universes in the realms of sleep?

While I slept I dreamt of chocolate covered army ants. They were still alive. Helplessly struggling in waves of chocolate. They were almost cute, with their little blindfolds. You had to shoot them before eating. I didn’t have the heart, or a small enough riffle…

So much to do, and so much time. I only lack the energy to succeed at everything.

From networking to needlecraft, each stated phrase speaks to the coming phase that leads to a craze, which can only bring me more grays.

Which train do I board?

Any nice tunnels ahead?

With so many openly going on the wagon, while multitudes of others coming out of the closet, and still more standing for this, or sitting for that, it all makes me kind of dizzy. And with my head spinning will I miss my turn?

Right of Left? Sure we should all vote, but when I finally make my mind up—the light turns red. Leaving me faced, with red. And I’m not bluffing, just blushing.

But I try to fit in. I bought an exercise bike, a self hypnosis tape, a computer, went to karate class, bought a crystal, a fax machine, a gun, a pair of one hundred and fifty dollar tennis shoes, a cell phone, a case of Dove bars, three jazz records, a flower, and meditated in my spare time. That was last week.

Needless to sat I never actually got around to meditating, and my list wasn’t quite as long as I wanted because my sixteen charge cards were all over the limit.

I soon found out that you can’t have it all. I was getting close but I was robbed and left with nothing but the bills. When they say “You can’t take it with you” I hope there talking about the debts.

Life is full of little choices: You can exercise the biceps or the brain cells. There is no middle ground. One side detracts from the other. It’s like a balance scale where one side is physical and the other is mental. On this roller coaster we call life – hills abound and the scale is never balanced.

Physical fitness seems to be winning the war—every where you go there are muscle men and women. On the beach the muscles have become more important than the tans. I call it the “parade of chests.”

But is this fitness thing just a fad? Will it go the way of hula-hoops, pet rocks, and mood rings? One can never tell. Who would have ever thought that rock n’ roll would still be around after more than a quarter of a century? The Who indeed.

Staying in shape is an important goal, but anything taken to extremes scares me. Just as Hitler went to extremes in trying to rebuild Germany (rebuild it into the whole world????), as did Diane Witt of Worcester, Mass., by letting her hair grow for eighteen years. Her hair was measured at ten feet, nine inches in 1989.

I guess I never did believe in being an extremist. I have never allowed myself to get wrapped up in anything. I like to spread my interests around, this keeps me from succeeding at anything and thus I don’t have to focus my attention on any one area for too long, keeping me from ever growing bored. People well-rounded are like balls that bounce from one thing to another, never coming to rest in any one place long enough to be at the top.

Specialization is the modern way. If one puts their concentration in any one area, chances are they will become very good at it. It can be very gratifying to be able to say that at least you were good at one thing.

It used to be called “having a one-track mind,” but that was before it became “in.” Perhaps that’s why there are very few athletes who play more than one sport. It goes against the grain of specialization. Sometimes it amazes me that so many people are baffled when someone tries their hand at two different sports. You think that there aren’t a lot of baseball players that can’t play football, and visa-versa? But I like it. I think it’s healthy. I wish we could bring back a little of that “jack-of-all-trades” philosophy. There are exceptions. But most likely it will never become common. Try finding a handy man these days.

Nothing is permanent. Nothing lasts forever. Muscles turn to fat, which eventually turns to dust. Even taxes, which grow, eventually get so large they explode into the controlling government’s face. This isn’t what the government.

Health and fitness is slowly replacing the couch potato mentality. Don’t believe for a minute though that TV will suffer, because soon it will be that instead of eating potato chips and drinking beer in front of the tube, it will be lifting weights and exercising while watching your favorite TV show. TV is the base of all modern human life.

I once succumbed to the fitness frenzy. I bought weights. They were heavy. Hard to lift. Lifting them made me tired.

After lifting the dumbbells a few times, I actually felt weaker! So I immediately ran to a mirror and I swear I could see no difference in me. I didn’t think I looked at all like one of those body builders I see on the beach. When I’m with a girl and I come across a muscle man I always try to point out that I’m probably smarter than they are. Maybe.

So, if after lifting a weight, I don’t see any improvement in my physical stature, what is the sense?

After a week of depression from my failed foray into musclebound mania I came up with a solution. A plan. A blueprint of success. Thinking power to solve the mystery of the physical:

Instead of lifting these artificial weights, I decided the smart thing was to go natural. I found the environmentally sound solution. It starts with drinking beer and eating potato chips and ice cream. With this strict regiment I figure I could gain an extra twenty pounds around my mid-section within a month. Then, by lugging this extra twenty pounds around all day, instead of just a few minutes with those artificial weights I would get fitter more quickly. Naturally. (Isn’t he the shortstop?)

Life is what you make it. Adversity is how you take it. And to get to the top you sometimes have to fake it.

I have a problem with faking anything. The only one I can ever fool is myself. What fun is that? Probably rates right up there with exercising. And with this thought I finally hit upon my ultimate solution—I will fake exercising. Therefore killing two birds with one stoned. And everyone must get stone. Or is that rock?

Remember: A beer in the hand is worth two bushes…  Or is it buds?

No. No. No! “A dead bird in the bush is worth two hands.” Or is it, “A rolling bird gets stuck in the moss, and thus can’t fly.”

Anyway, you get the point. I hope.

I think it’s time to run (I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to run around the block a few times to clear my head) before I start mixing metaphors or something equally as revolting. Because it is important to remember that when you mix a metaphor improperly the cake batter turns out lumpy.

End.

Did I just awaken my spirit?

Can it Dance?

Where am I now

that I am awake?

Let me know which of the above links you like the best...

Friendly Drive

A FRIENDLY DRIVE

I was driving down the road the other day, when I flipped out. It wasn't a new song on the radio. It was the curb that caused it. Before I knew it I was doing summersaults.

My car landed right side up and I staggered out. I, literally, spit glass out of my mouth as I gazed disbelievingly at my car. People stopped and were asking me questions, but I just alternated nodding and shaking my head without listening to them.

My car ... me?

Not a bruise. Not a cut. The glass didn't even cut the inside of my mouth. Not one thing was wrong with me… No, I wasn't wearing my seat belt.

As my brain finally started excepting messages my eyes were sending it, I noticed my windshield lying a few feet from the car, shattered, but nearly whole. My newly bought side mirrors were, naturally, broken off. There was mud allover my car as luckily I had rolled on grass instead of pavement. The passenger side of the roof was smashed in a bit, my door was bent in, and the right rear fender was smashed.

Someone said I must have been listening to the radio to hit a rock and roll.

Somehow I got the idea of trying to start my car. Since no damage was done to the hood or anything under it, I got the car started without any trouble.

I ended up driving the car home, with no windshield in below freezing temperatures. I shook all the way home, partially from the cold and partially from shock.

One the way home I thought of something that Winston Churchill once said, one of my favorite quotes—

 "Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing happened."

I made it home without getting pulled over, even though it's illegal to drive without a windshield.

I can still remember (in flashes) that sensation of turning upside down and rolling. Things flashed by so fast. I saw parts of my life in quick, unrelated glimpses. Then, in mid roll, I thought to myself, "This is a dream."

Microseconds later I realized it wasn't a dream, that my car was rolling over and I was in it, and that I would be late for work. I wondered why it rolled. Was I rolling up a hill? Through lanes of traffic? Was I dying? Had I ever lived? Was my car paid off? Did I have clean underwear?

A feeling soon to be forgot, but a time long remembered. If the feelings that one has during an uncontrollable moment in one's life could be totally recalled, I doubt if many mistakes would be repeated. But the only thing that is truly remembered are the after affects, and they never seem to be quite as bad.

Yes, how easily feelings are forgot.

Trying times can test us and show what we're made of. I'm not sure what I'm made of, but I know that I don't like tests.

It sounds unusual, but I think Cicero made a lot of sense when he said,

 "There is something pleasurable in calm remembrance of a past sorrow."

Maybe it's just the fact that the adversity has been survived, and it makes present adversities seem conquerable. Something Friedrich Nietzsche said helps shed light into Cicero's statement:

       "What does not destroy me makes me strong."

You are stronger from living through past sorrows. Also past troubles seen through memory's eye always are less sharp and out of focus then is the pain of present problems.

Remember the lesson of the day — Brakes, steering and even good friends can fail. To remain strong without becoming bitter is the trick. Friends don't care about your failures, and they care only to beat your successes. The best one can ask of a friend is to tell the truth when you need it, also to lie when you need it, and to listen nearly as often as they talk. Many times I find myself praying like Marshall de Villars.         — "God save me from my friends

                  I can protect myself from my enemies."

I expect distress from my enemies but when it comes by way of friends it is unbearable. I guess I just have to learn something that Agnes Macphail put well by saying,

“Do not rely completely on any other human being, however dear. We meet all life's greatest tests alone."

I guess when you have news that makes your life miserable the best thing a friend can do, from his point of view, is to exclude you from his life so you don't make him share in your misery.

"Heaven for climate, hell for company." — James M. Barrie.

Half my friends are in heaven, and the rest just have their heads in the clouds.

Dearly befriended,

èim  Uhr

P.S. It's funny the way

       one thinks of friends

                          in times of sorrow. I

                          can usually think of

                          them, but I can't talk

                          to them.

Dummy

Helpless

From the archives... "Article Worth Framing"

#written over 30 years ago - dredged up from the pits#

A R T I C L E    W O R T H    F R A M I N G

Typing my life away. Words appearing on paper, with nothing to say. But today is different. No, my typing has not quickened its pace, I have not taken typing lessons. Typing is just as tedious as ever. No, I have not sat down with something special to say ahead of time. This article will probably drift by word by word just like all the rest in a sea of paragraphs, being fed from a babbling stream of consciousness. Yes, this writer has his "Gone Fishing" sign up.

So what, you ask, is different about today's article? Today I face the typewriter alone. I have, for the first time, not written any of this down ahead of time in longhand. The thoughts flow directly from my head to the printed paper, with no middle pad involved. No change, no chance to update, cross out, add, or disintegrate. Leave the editing to the editor.

Darn, I'm not done yet. I don't want to let this paper sit in the typewriter too long. I don't want the editor to think the paper was yellow before I started. A true vintage work of art.

I have always believed in honesty, and anyone who says they believe differently is a liar. I have always told my readers how it is. If I'm having trouble writing a particular piece I come right out and admit it. If I doze off every now and then when writing I tell of the experiences of my dreams upon awakening. I try to get as close to my readers as possible. I have a theory that the majority of my readers are between the ages of 20 and 30, female, and beautiful. Now you can understand why I want to get as close to them as possible.

But of course this only applies to my articulate writing, when I know that the reader knows that she is reading me, and not just something about one of my characters that I made up, as in a novel. When writing a story about other people and places I really don't care how close and personal I bring my readers in to their particular lives. When I want to bring my readers close to my characters I just use a frame. By using unsung characters as a way to tell and develop a story about other characters whom the readers never come in direct contact with is my ploy to keep the readers far away from the story. After all, my characters have their own personal lives, and letting you into their minds might hurt their feelings. Me, I don't mind you coming into my mind. Don't worry-- there is plenty of room to wander about. But I think of my characters as people in their own right, and I wouldn't feel right about letting you trample around in the mind of someone else. My mind doesn't mind trampling, but I cannot speak for others. It's good to have my mind occasionally filled with something, even if it is unceremoniously trampling and generally mucking about of others, for it cuts down on the echoes and reverberations of thoughts past.

Most of the time my writing is intellectual and emotional, so it is not hurt by distance. My stories can be told just as well from the overhearing of another's conversation as from the contorted drivel from one of my main characters' brain. Creating distance in stories also can create new characters. The people you eavesdrop on become a secondary part of the story. These people must somehow be related to the story they are revealing.

Yes, creating a distance between the reader and the story can be useful in works of fiction. First of all, it doesn't embarrass the characters by letting a total stranger see something that they do not wish to show to just anyone. It resolves the writer from the sin of letting another beings brain be trampled on. It keeps with the intellectual aura of my usual writing. I don't like my stories exaggerated and overblown like the common "fish story." There is an art to creating new, unimportant characters and confusing the readers. I have often noticed that the more confused the reader is, the better he likes the story. Also the use of more characters makes the story longer just by having to take the space to explain their presence, and remember – writers get paid by the word count. So the more words I can force on to the paper … the greater the masterpiece.

He stumbled into the bar, rejected again. It was tough to be an unsold writer in New York City with revenues as well as patience dwindling. Five rejections in as many weeks! Maybe he was forcing out the novels a bit too fast…

He needed a drink…

Tom Collins. Didn't his brother used to be a wide receiver for the Browns? He dug the folded money from his wallet. The money he was counting on lasting until he started selling was running low. And not yet even one sale. He placed his head in his hands, trying to clear his head. He couldn't, wouldn't! go back home without a sale. As tears welled up in his eyes and trickled down through his fingers, his ears popped, and as they did the mull of mixed conversation dropped to a level of inaudibility and from the table behind him he could just make out what the participants of an interesting conversation were saying. He listened in a half dreaming state …

"…broke into the New York Times with a bang." a man's voice was saying. "He comes from Ohio. Already he's got a huge following, and to think that just weeks ago he was an unknown!"

I think he's gorgeous," came the lovely voice from a girl over twenty, but certainly not more than thirty.

"Certainly the new sensation. By his third article he had made the front page!"

“It's destiny."

"Truly words of wisdom. This one is something special…"

"Where has he been hiding all his life?"

"They say he's only in his teens. I think he's so gorgeous!"

"Surely words so wise could not possibly come from one so young. Where does he get his vast knowledge and experiences?"

"Truly a gift from above…"

"Yet, his words are so deep…"

"Deep, reaching the bottom of my heart... "

"…and meaningful…”

"Bringing his soul along with every word…"

"Did you read his latest masterpiece in today's paper?"

"First thing I do every morning!"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Well, actually no. I save it for the night. When I can read him all alone in bed at night, sharing our inner feelings. Every time I read him I feel so close to him, like he's right there with me… He's so gorgeous!"

"Well, then let me tell you what he wrote today…"

"No! I told you! I save him for the night! I don't wanna hear…"

"That's not all you save for the night, Sally."

"Actually I get more of a thrill from reading the dictionary than I would if I was with you…"

"But Bob, I thought that you said that you and Sally, last weekend… "

"Shut up, Phil!"

"All a writer has to do to get a woman is to say he's a writer. It's an aphrodisiac." smiled Saul Bellow as he passed by their table on his way out, catching part of the conversation.

"He typed his article today directly from his head, he didn't write it first out in longhand like he usually does."

"I told you," Sally was growing furious, "I don't want to have my night spoiled. So shut up!"

"Hey, I wonder if the editor had to read yellow paper…?"

Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha!

"Hey, I have the article right here…"

"In your pocket?"

"Yes, I cut everyone out and carry it around with me for a week and then I have them framed. They hang nicely over the fireplace. I'm running out of room to hang them, though. I think I might have to buy a bigger house."

"Come on. Come on! Read that article out loud. I haven't memorized the third paragraph yet!"

"Ahem… Typing my life away." Bill read in his best voice, standing and waving his arms about, "Words appearing on paper, with nothing to say. But today is different… No, my typing has not quickened its pace, I have not taken typing lessons. Typing is…”

"I can not hear you! I can not hear you… I can not hear you… I can not he… " Her voice fades away as she leaves the bar.

As the dramatic reading of the article continues people gather around the table. Most of them are very good-looking girls… Those who haven't already, are busy memorizing every word coming from Bill's mouth. Soon the whole bar, as most of them already had the article submitted to memory, joined in with Bill and recited the article, and it sounded no less than a choir of angels, a symphony of words.

For one moment in one bar in New York City people forget everything and simply listened. All forgot their private worries and for one brief moment all was right with the world. Peace and harmony were plentiful and men were brothers as they finally found a commonality that could unite the world and solve all differences. One light that could shin for everyone for the common good and benefit of all mankind and lead us all to enlightenment.

The tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy on the young writer’s face, for young Isaac Asimov now knew that there was hope for him, and that soon he too, would find his place in the writing world, and maybe also write a thing or two.

                                                    Successfully Yours,

                                                           èim  Uhr

P.S. Don't feel too sorry for poor Isaac,

I feel that after his 200th book he is gaining

 some confidence and will soon grow up to be

 a better than average writer. 

old things sometimes crash

And people do too (and I thought Browns fans were  ridiculous )

The Sun Is Normal

The Sun Is Normal

What is love?

I was in love once, but then the mirror cracked…

My shattered love tumbled to the floor in shards that glistened up at me and my reflected tears.

I doubt that I could ever fall in love again. Love just isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I have never had anyone love me. Nobody likes me, so how can anyone love me?

My heart has never been broken. I am still, basically, in one piece. I have never felt that special ache in my heart, and dryness of the throat that no amount of liquids can quench. When my throat is dry a beer or a coke will usually do the trick. It is said that the sun appears brighter through the eyes of a person suffering from love. Well, at least I don't need sunglasses!

Who needs love? Can't plains, trains, boats, houses, poles, and rocks function just as well without love in their lives?

Love makes the world go around, maybe that's why everyone is so dizzy. You say that love is blind: I say to get some glasses and steady your head as well as your sight. But why is it that those who walk steady fall so hard? It would seem they only fool themselves by believing it impossible for them to ever fall, so they don't see it coming even when it's obvious to all those around that one more step leads them over the edge. Thus, the unprepared fall hurts all the more.

With a philosophy like that you may wonder how I ever hope to keep from falling. But remember, you have to be on your feet in order to fall. I don't plan on falling, especially with my back pressed firmly to the ground.

So this "low" view of the world brings me all the more close to my foes. After all, how low do you have to go to be an enemy of mine?

What is hate?

I hated someone once, but that person found out and left me all alone.

I doubt I'll ever hate anyone again, it always seems to hurt me more than the person I hate.

I have never had anyone hate me… nobody knows I exist (or cares), so how can anyone hate me?

My eyes have not burned with fury for quite some time. My eyes are blank now, like openings of a cave. My brain stalagmite. I can be found starring off into space, or walking the streets late at night just to feel the wind blow through my brain. No thoughts are cleared by the breeze, and none enter by way of it. I only walk at night so as to come across as few people as possible. Well, at least I don't need sunglasses!

Hate makes the world ever changing and exciting. If we could all just get along, it would be boring. We would all be peaceful and healthy – probably living forever. But I’m not sure what the “official definition” of “alive” is. I mean, is a petrified forest considered “alive?” Living forever in a mummified state, the wrappings separating you from any potential conflict doesn’t seem too satisfying. I’m not too sure anyone lives in such a state of bliss today. Doesn't everyone seem to have ulcers? Hate causes arguments. With arguments there is a conflict of opinions, and this many times has been known to lead to enlightenment.

I am a liar. Earlier I said that I do not love or hate. I stated it knowing full well that it is not so. Thus, I lied. For I love to hate and I hate to love. Only the man above can decide my fate. I, just a man, not great, sometimes good, sometimes bad – but most often sad. My tears – dry before they fall – know no hope. Justifying a dope, I still give it my all. For my tears will pass, sorrow will last, but my heart won't fail.

But tears are just water. They can be shed in sorrow or joy. The heart is just a muscle doing its job, efficiently but with no emotion.

I am a mere human. A mass of protein and nucleic acid. I am the result of millions of years of evolution. Cells grouping together, taking on individual functions to better serve the whole. My blood, devoid of its cells and proteins, is just seawater. A soul is untouchable, so it does not exist.

I have no soul.

I do not love and cannot hate.

 I am.

Therefore I am.

But I don't care…

                                                     Normally Yours,

èim  Uhr

P.S.     I love starting out a weird article

           (I thought they were all weird), but

           by the time I reach the end I hate it!

          (Is that why they're always extra short?)

P.P.S.

         I just added this to make it a little l o n g e r.

Slice me

What's Next?

S A V I N G    A    B R E A K

I once wrote an article that was really magnanimous. Well, actually that is only a half-truth. I once had an idea for an article that would have been great to write down. But I didn't happen to have a pen handy at the time, so I forgot about it. So bare along with the bad articles, hopefully I will get lucky again. And don't totally dismiss that possibility! They say it happens in threes, and I figure that’s probably what it would take that for you to be able to see a good article by me in the future. With nothing else on my mind at the moment (which someone once told me was very common with me, but I don't know if it's true… I try not to think about it), I may as well trace the lucky breaks needed for a good article to appear on these pages.

The first lucky break is for me to come up with a good thought, a good concept for an article. Now that may sound like a miracle, but without getting biblical on you, lets just say that God moves in mysterious ways. The original thought or concept is, naturally, the first step that must take place for any good piece of writing. For me this lucky break has already taken place, but it just so happened that I didn't get another lucky break along with it, like having a pen near by at that brief moment of impossibility, so I could write it down. So the two lucky breaks for any good article to be able to come about are 1) The thought, and 2) To have pen in hand.

Since everyone has three lucky breaks to a lifetime and I have used one up, I still have two left. So at some unforeseeable date I just may come up with a good article. Chances might be quite good! – Although I don't usually like to bring chance into these scientific matters.

But wait a minute! Even though I still have two lucky breaks left and there are only two to choose from it doesn't necessarily mean that they will both come at the same fraction of second in time (my attention span). And who is to say that, even though there are only two breaks to choose from and that I have two left, they will be one of each of the possibilities? Why couldn't it happen to be two of the same? It doesn't seem possible that my brain could come up with two more significant thoughts in my lifetime, but if it did it would use up my last two lucky breaks without anyone else witnessing the tremendous feat by way of an unqualified article coming about.

Wait another minute! On second thought (not a significant one), I have already used my lucky breaks up. Remember, lucky break number two is to have a pen in hand. I have had a pen in hand many times!... To think that I wasted all those lucky breaks by having a pen in hand when I didn't have any significant thoughts at the time, like now, so that I could write down something half intelligent. Why can't I get two lucky breaks at once? That still might not help, I don't see what good it would do to have two pens at once…

What is wrong with me? God was good enough to surpass my lucky break quota past the usual three, and I wasted possibly all I will ever get on the pen in hand lucky break. Talk about dopes!

Come to think of it, maybe if I wasn't such a dummy I wouldn't have had all the extra lucky breaks, because, after all, they say God is merciful to those less fortunate (a nice term for dummies). So possibly it would be unwise for me to get a significant thought because that might take me right out of God's less fortunate category and blow any more extra lucky breaks that God has lined up for me. So remember, even though the writing may not be that good, at least it does fill the pages. If I started getting good, then the lucky breaks would end and I would stop writing. That may sound favorable, but just think of the damage I might do if I didn't spend all most all my time sitting at a desk, writing.

Things usually work out for the best.

                                Thinking (insignificantly) of you,

                                              èim  Uhr

P.S: I haven't been able to find

        my pen for a while now,

        so I'm writing this p.s.

                             in blood .      .        .

Santa's Coming...

Eat Light

E  A  T        L  I  G  H  T

"Let there be light!"

I switched on the light. The room glowed with a white warmth as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brilliance, that nearly matched the glow in my heart.

But what is light? Oh, sure it travels at approximately 299,793 kilometers per second, but what is this speedy thing we call light? Is it glass, from the bulbs that glow with light? No, a glass bulb alone doesn't do the trick, it has to be in a socket and turned on so that electricity flows through it. Then light is electricity! No, you can have light without electricity, just look at the sun, or light a match. Fire needs no electricity, yet gives off light. But what do a light bulb, fire and the sun all have in common? Heat! So heat is light. But is it really? Human flesh is warm, but is it light. It must take a certain minimum temperature for objects to radiate with light. But does it radiate or come in waves? It was long believed to be waves, as an electromagnetic disturbance, propagated through the electromagnetic field. But Einstein came along and theorized that light is not waves of varying lengths but photons of varying energies. Each theory has its advantages and drawbacks. Most likely it is some unforeseen combination of the two. We would not be too far off to say that light radiates out from its source whether it's in the form of waves or photons.

The sun radiates. Light bulbs radiate. Fire radiates.

Yes, radiation fills the air. Heat is a form of radiation. Light is a form of radiation. Energy is emitted by waves or particles by all these sources.

We breathe the air. Cattle and fish breathe air into their systems, which filters into their veins, which supplies nutrition to the muscles and the body. We eat the meat of these animals.

We breathe radiation, we eat radiation, and we live in radiation.

So? Radiation is a fact of life, what can we do about it?

I have previously mentioned the need for a campaign to stop breathing. "How?" I just heard you ask. "We'll die,” you say. Just read my past article "Bad Breath" for the clear-cut facts on the unnessecities of breathing. You will see, through a simple test, how ridiculous you have been all these years.

O.K., now you know it's possible to go without breathing. But you want to know why. Radiation is why. The radiation in the air is the reason you grow old. I also believe that this radiation, though some call it "mild", is deforming our children little by little. Radiation, any scientist will tell you, is what, most likely is the cause of evolution. But this evolution is not what they think. It is the reverse of what they are saying! De-evolution is being proven as I speak. Ask anyone if the generation that follows his is up to the old generation’s standards. We did not descend from monkeys but are descending to them. Did you see the classic "Planet of the Apes" for a look into the future? Do you listen to DEVO records all day? Then you, my friend, also know of the vast dangers of this dreadful radiation that is ruining all out lives. We shouldn't just rid ourselves of the Nuke plants but also the plants that are making oxygen, which are carriers of this dreadful radiation. It’s like being on a diet in a candy store. It's hard to keep from breathing when there is so much air all around. Just as we say smoking is bad for us yet the advertising still runs rampant and they are more available than vitamins. Let's get rid of the things around us that are harmful and tempting. Ban cigarettes, chocolate, booze and plants!

Some hard facts:

Did you know that five out of every seven mental retardation cases are caused by radiation?

Two or three hours of exposure to the sun can slow the process by which the eyes adapt to the dark by several hours. And two or three hours of lying on a sunny beach without protecting your eyes can temporarily reduce night vision by 50%. I bet this has something to do with radiation.

Radiation exposure can lead to cyclostomatous.

A radio signal could reach from Moscow to New York in less time than it takes a mothers voice to reach her children playing in the back yard, 40 feet away. Radio signal sound like it has something to do with radiation, so they probably move at comparable speeds. Do you want radiation reaching your kids before you do!?

Ninety-nine out of everyone hundred people who have worn underwear in the last four years will die a radiation related death.

Radiation will kill more people this year than last year.

These are just some of the hard to find facts of a radiation soaked society. Believe me, I could give you a list like this, right off the top of my head, all day long.

Death is common. No one as of yet has escaped it. What do all these people that have been dying have in common? They all breathe, or have, at one time in their life, taken, knowingly, a breath. See where breathing gets you? Breathing is for the dead.

I know that even though you have read my historic article "Bad Breath" and know that breathing is just a bad habit and can be stopped, you still say, "Well, I have to eat!" Because you know that all animals of earth are infected with this radiation from their breathing habits. Yes, animals are stupid enough to breath, they lack the reasoning power that human’s have at our disposal. But how can you expect any other animals to be smart enough to refrain from breathing when, up until now, man hasn't been smart enough to stop, and man is the smartest animal of all? Unless you count whales because they’re pretty smart – probably smarter than man. And unless you count dolphins, and dogs and ameba, we are at the top of the list for smartest creatures – at least on this planet.

How can you stop? What does it take to break some of these fifty habits?

Stopping breathing is easily, and I already covered that in an earlier article. “Bad Breath” makes clear the unnecessities of breathing and how to stop. To quickly summarize –– just don’t think about it.

But how about eating?

Don't eat. Wouldn't you rather die a simple starvation death or wait around a while to die an agony filled radiation death?

It’s a well-known fact (I know it very well) that quitting smoking is harder than quitting eating.

But, knowing that many of you out there are die-hard traditionalists, I have another solution. Eat fish and drink only distilled water. Fish is relatively safe from radiation. The air that fish breath is filtered by the water and has only l/l00th the radiation levels of the air and the animals above the surface. But please don't drink this water with the radiation filtered into it, drink distilled water.

One quick note about not breathing, make sure you have a strong heart. Many people already have tried to stop breathing and in their panic and stubborn refusal to give up outdated and disprovable beliefs they have suffered heart attacks. It works, but only if you believe with all your heart. Amen.

So, if you insist on eating, make sure it's fish. And if you still insist on breathing, make sure it's under water so that the air is filtered.

                                                  Carnivorously yours,

                                     èim  Uhr

P.S: Some more helpful hints on the cautions of

        radiation poisoning.

1. Wash all fish with distilled water after bring

     it home.

2. Don't let wines breathe before drinking.

3. Don't let yourself slip back into the breathing

    habit.

4.Teach your children to stop breathing at a young

   age, so they won’t grow up all soggy from the

   radiation.

5. If the doctor slaps your newborn to bring about her

    first breath – slap him right back!

6. Remember to forget breathing every day.

7. Any sexual excursions should be done with nose

    plugs and your mouth closed tight.

8. Tape the first 7 helpful hints to your forehead

    so that people can remind you of them throughout

    your day.

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