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Below are the 18 most recent journal entries recorded in Professor Johann Galapogos' LiveJournal:

Friday, August 1st, 2003
2:20 am
Here's a list of things recently studied and interests

St Issa
Olivers Sacks
David Hume
Thomas Nagel
Buddism Contentment
Politics in depth
herman hesse
ethics and morality in depth
1:09 am
The Light
gotta gotta write ! gotta write!. So much has changed! So much! the world! It's so different!. I see ! Isee the world! It's not complicated anymore! The world makes sense! These past few months I've totally seen the light!hooray! Hooray for intwelligence! it never failed me al these years! I new we'd get to the answers! Now's tyhere's so much more to get working on! I almost feel embarrased that it took me this long to get here! But nevertheless, I'm freeee!!! I'm truly free!
Sunday, February 16th, 2003
1:24 am
now I'm writing down my dreams definitely.
from now on, too many I've forgottne that were thrilling.
Monday, March 25th, 2002
2:32 pm
femme aromatic foam beats
I make my way down the sumptious tunnel of freakish beetish calamity. The Professor is ga ga for the equations of femme hip orbitals!
1:25 am
You've found a Baby Gualion
You've found a baby gualion. What will you do now?

If you want to hide the baby gualion in your shirt and try to escape up the cliff without the mother gualion knowing, turn to page 68

If you want to give it some psychedelic mushrooms from your pouch, pats its head and continue on your mission turn to page 49
Thursday, February 28th, 2002
8:19 pm
Who is this Professor???????????&????????????
Try your skill! It's an anonymous test to see how well you know me! or don't know me! Or need an education!

Thursday, January 10th, 2002
9:03 pm
sitting here listening to Moon River staring at Monet's, I can only sigh in contentment.

Wednesday, January 9th, 2002
11:51 pm
Fiction Sandwich
This is a miscontrued story with Dave and I switching author every other paragraph. This story actually happened.

I received my cape in the mail along with a pack of Chinese stars and a piece of paper that read: Ronald use these and attend the vampire swingers club at the elitist hobnob gala. Beware you're not invited.
"Interesting", myself said to myself
I liked crashing parties anyway. I threw on my cape, attached the Chinese stars to my belt, and tied a long black sock around my head for added effect. If I was going to hobnob it at the gala I better be prepared for anything. Anything from slightly under dated, bad-natured wine to ridiculous bla-bla conversation with Chester that babbling swine. Oh well... I took a stroll- the vampire club was right down the street. Something caught my eye as I walked past an alley- a florescent blue sign that scribbled out "INTENSE DANCE VIBES" above a door. Without a second chance, I let a few Chinese stars assail through the air and sever the metallic wire that held the sign up. Sparks dazzled from the alley. "Whew," I thought; it had been years since I last practiced Ninja with Sensei Yokosuma in the mountains of Tibet. I kept on walking. Another triumph for the sane world.
I reached knob hill and decided to take the back door. I jumped the fence and threw my black cape over me immediately on the arrival of a guard.
"Who's there", he barked. He couldn't tell me from kosher bacon, I had become the night.
Just then he noticed three metallic stars sticking from his chest and the over whelming need for permanent sleep. I on the other hand had moved on to scaling half way up the old castle, better known as the hobnob gala. Two figures with short swords guarded a window. I decided on sharing the bottom of my martial arts shoes with their necks. They quickly jumped up as I landed a flip and spun around meeting their terror. Before I could finish a smile, I had one in a sleeper hold and the other stumbling from seven blows to the chest and head. They both dropped simultaneously as I slipped into the hall. A single light shown from a room. As I approached, I could here the evil festivities in the ballroom a few floors below me. I twisted a peek into the room and gasped.
On the table lay a copy of Jawbreakers! What Debauchery!! What goes on in this house anyway??! I quickly threw in into the blazing furnace that lighted the room and tried to erase the front cover from my memory. Someone needed to pay. Thank god I still had a Chinese star left. Now to settle this. I decided to go for a ride and hopped on to the banister in front of me. I picked up speed and curved through twists and turns of the wood work- up, down, loopdeloop till the banister met its end and I was propelled out into the open air above the ballroom, sensing one big blur of debauchery below. Something flashed before me and I grabbed it - a rope. Echoes from the flabbergasted crowd ensued. 'Ha!' I screamed as the rope swung me to an open spot next to the candy corner table. I landed.
"I say w-we-what is all this", spoke a tubby old chap dressed in corny class. It was none other than Chester godfree.
"Chester you dog", I piped, "anything you want to tell the crowd, like maybe why you have an opened copy of jawbreaker in your study. Then I realized, embarrassingly that I was not at the vampire club at all, but at the jawbreaker reunion party. "Damn".

"Seize him," a voice yelled. I looked and noticed it came from a small figure on the floor clothed in a king's robe. The figure turned around and the crowd began mumbling and whispering in disbelief it was fat cat!
"Seize him and take him to my quarters", spoke his fatness.
Bam! Just then, a book crashed down on my desk and I awoke. I was back in 5th grade math class with miss skabado double damn! Class went on for another 5 hours and then I grabbed my lunch box and made my way to the bus. I noticed an odd weight to my lunch box. I opened it and gazed on an odd looking piece of paper that read: meet me at the lard convention I'll be the only one that looks like a Persian cat. I decided to skip the bus and hot-wired a vespa but as I sped toward the convention, I decided to stop for a hair cut. And that turned out to be a big mistake since the barber chair was really a small time machine when I sat in it I was thrown in a tornado of madness. This went on for 2 minutes as I slowly cam to a stop. I opened my eyes and couldn't believe were I was

"Jordan, who made the mess downstairs?" Dave Eilbert stood in front of me. He was looking at me. Something's not right. I glanced around. Why's he talking to me? I don't remember my arm looking this fatUh oh. I looked down at a Scooby doo shirt with a small belly protruding out. No this can't be. "No what Jordan. Are you going to clean it up or sit there dumbfounded." I can't beJordan!!!!!!!!! I ran for the door screaming "Get me out of this madhouse!" Things whirled through my mind. Why was everything so big? I ran out the door. "The old house! And I'm Jordan!" Ahhhhhhhhhh! I ran screaming out to the caral and saw Doug in tight-ass sweatpants. "Ahhhhhhhhhh!" I started running the other way.
"Jordan, why do you always act like this," replied Doug as I toppled over onto the grass trying to make sense of it all. Suddenly the horse caral fence in front of me burst and splintered into a million pieces as hundreds of horses started stampeding out led by a monstrous black stallion rode by Gail wielding a serpent whip!!! I tried to dash for cover but I was too overweight, dammit. And then a flying hoof came at me- WACK!

I awoke to two orange eyes

Monday, December 17th, 2001
6:26 pm
The illustrious Lukley Looped
The illustrious Lukley Looped

My Vespa raped the cobblestones of friction as I left the little Italian plaza with my Pecirino cheese wheel and Chianti. I was on my way back to THE KITE FLYING SOCIEY to join my brothers and sisters in some necessary evening intellectual stimuli. Ash from my Russian clove clung to my crushed velvet jacket as I zigged and zagged through small alley side streets. News had it our chemists were on to something steamy. Something for all the good boys and girls. The anticipation ran through my eyes with the warm wind. I was tooling home.
In the groovy surry hills of the Italian country, our weathered ol' Dutch mansion obscured select league members of the first chapter of the KFS. My tires screamed to a stoppage as I stuck my tongue out for identification. The little, green mechanical w3 scanned my tongue and confirmed the legitimacy of the small square imprint at the tip of my tongue. Access approved. I zipped past the blue gate down the long driveway, the towering cypress trees muddling into a green wall. I was feeling ready for whatever news the society could muster up about 'Charlie", and no Charlie is not a person but we'll get into that later. First, let me explain a few things about the kite flying society. Things that I am only now at the liberty to confabulate on because I am no more, so to speak.
The KFS consisted of multitudinous members worldwide. Some were lifetime members, some only achieving membership at the prime of there life. All members however processed something unavoidably unique, a strange pulsation radiating from a real version of real life. This version was of extreme intelligence that surpassed the conceptual and moved at times into the realms of fantasy. A version of life based on experience fueled by love.
These collective visionaries held the indispensable need to travel time and space living to live about it. Tapped into the live wire vulnerable to everything and always finding new and revolutionary ways of expressing themselves.
Put these kind into one room and you have a free thought association performing everyday life into art, very capable of the impressive and extreme.
Although we shared, "the common thread" are talents were madly diverse. Some of us notably spent their time contemplating the paragons of multi- level existence. Others explored swinginomitry the art of being smooth as lamb-ass a daddy of debauchery if you will. There were those of us whole dabbled in the sub- visual arts blowing minds out of the water with new and rare forms of expression and observation. We breathed music and sipped wit. We all in a way possessed some of each of these. We were all philosophers, all hypnotists, swingers, lovers... intellectual seducers.
Any way I pushed open the large oak door and entered the mansion. Made my way through the immense study into the iron spider. I pressed the purple button, not the green and descended into the su- lounge. The doors opened and I was greeted by smiles I was home.
The spade with the afro and razor chops on the plush couch talking all sorts of vernacular jive that's Daddy Longlegs.
The cat by the gargantuan fish tank, spilling his martini on the flokati rug Roy Swift.
The slicked-stick lying on the couch with her legs twiddling in the air Illia (the digital doll).
The two hob-knobs throwing around yuppie lingo with bent smiles Ronald Mink and Chester Godfree.
The beatnik in the thick black turtleneck with the handlebar mustache Sha Sha Glum.
Then of course there's count scapula (A.K.A. Prof. Johnathon Stoags), myself Fattius Whites (A.K.A. Lukely Looped) and Agent W (who you probably heard about).
Last but not least was our president Magistrate Mumbles, who no one ever understood.
The Magistrate cleared his lungs and we new it was time to begin the meeting. We all gathered around. He pointed to a large board on the wall with one word ascribed on it CHARLIE.
Yes yes do go on, my mind jabbed. As far as I knew Charlie was the break through formula we had all waited for. The one thing that we never new existed but needed desperately.
"lskjfdhlsjkdhfgl sj fjljghughughuhuhuihjhbhbhblalallalblaaaa aaaa" spoke the magistrate.
We all looked at each other like "WHAT".
He continued, "vbw ubnnb eiorutitu8745b ckfvsvcnivrsnv fkf rirk df jrkir idfndc bsuhcndr6d rtt.rftgtdu."
'Interesting", I mumbled.
Magistrate Mumbles then pointed to a street on a large map of Paris and nodded. The street was Carnegie and we all understood what are mission was. We jumped up and bolted through the mansion like a pack of psychiatric patents who finally realized where they were and burst into the tar-covered night. Vespa engines roared and raced and we all peeled off into black madness. We needed that formula ASAP. I pushed up a switch and exposed an ulterior gadget, which attached itself to the engine the flux capacitor. I punched it as my bike groped into quantum speed. I left the others behind me like bad gas. Careening down the highway I began to lift slightly off the ground. I then hit another switch the gusilator. As I streamed into strobo acceleration, my humble vespa took flight and ascended towards the heaven like a space moth.
Bloody yellow cracked through the sky, it was sunrise. 6 hours later and my trusty ol' bike still held its subsonic soft pace through the cascading layers of clouds as in the distance I could now see the head of the E tower. Ah. Paris. The air was chill and were it not for my wool pea coat and blue and orange scarf this dashing hero would be numb, but everything was all right. I brought the vespa to a baby smooth landing merging right onto the cobblestone and zipped to Carnegie. I gave thought to my colleagues and where they were. I pictured myself full of sumptuousness all aglow when they finally found me with the formula first. I turned onto to Carnegie with a grin that soon evaporated oknow what? I had given absolutely no thought of what I had to do once I got here. I hadn't even gotten an address or something. I parked and found a park bench. Slumping down I sighed this is not happening. As I began carving off a piece of luscious pecirino cheese, the street began to awake. Breakfast cafes were heard clanging and pouring, shudders swung, plants drank and brooms swept as the sun peeked its head over the tops of thin buildings. I had just taken a much-deserved sip of wine when I noticed a small leather case at the bottom of my bag. What the I don't remember packing this. I opened the case. Oh yea its just my cop shades, silly me. Anyway, when I looked up a store in particular caught my interest. The sign above it read THE PLASTIC FETISH. I walked over turned the plastic doorknob and entered a room that appeared to be made entirely out of plastic. I strolled over to the register and introduced myself to the Japanese sales vixen.
"Well you seem to be up to your ass in plastic miss, by the way my names lukley looped". Damn that didn't come out like it was supposed to.
"Interesting", she said in her Japanese slur, "you must be playing the fool today."
Well, I was all a gasp. "Ahem", I coughed, "I don't think you realize a man of my stature could actually be in the market for some good plastic, so why don't we skip the pleasantries and get right down to it what do you know about plastic eggplants." This kitten was ready to scratch I knew it.
"Behind you", she reamed.
I turned around and was met by an onslaught of egg plants all different shapes all different sizes, colors all plastic. Then I noticed a sleeked and burnished rack of something dandy in the back of the pliant, rainbow filled room. On this rack were all sorts of ductile mod suits I once had a dog and BINGO! was his namo.
"Tremendous", I remarked aloud. Just then, I caught the distinct aroma of something burning. Sniffing like a pack rat I followed the sent all the way back to the counter, and when I took a look behind I suddenly screeched like a little girl. The Japanese sales clerk, with the very mopus disposition, was slumped on the ground, chin on her chest with smoke pouring out of her neck. For the love of Pete she was a plastic robot! Well this was a job for the Ghostbusters or something certainly not me, I quickly grabbed two plastic suits about my size and made a b line for the door pronto style. Trying not to look too suspicious I skipped out of that absurdly delightful store and down the street nervously whistling Dixie.

To be continued....

A story written by The Incomprable Davis Copyrighted.
Thursday, November 15th, 2001
8:38 pm
What the Tortoise said to Achilles

Achilles had overtaken the Tortoise, and had seated himself comfortably on its back.
"So you've got to the end of our race-course?" said the Tortoise. "Even though it does consist of an infinite series of distances? I thought some wiseacre or other had proved that the thing couldn't be done?"

"It can be done," said Achilles. "It has been done! Solvitur ambulando. You see the distances were constantly diminishing: and so---"

"But if they had been constantly increasing?" the Tortoise interrupted. "How then?"

"Then I shouldn't be here," Achilles modestly replied; "and you would have got several times round the world by this time!"

"You flatter me--flatten, I mean," said the Tortoise; "for you are a heavy weight, and no mistake! Well now, would you like to hear of a race-course, that most people fancy they can get to the end of in two or three steps, while it really consists of an infinite number of distances, each one longer than the previous one?"

"Very much indeed!" said the Grecian warrior, as he drew from his helmet (few Grecian warriors possessed pockets in those days) an enormous note-book and a pencil. "Proceed! And speak slowly, please! Short-hand isn't invented yet!"

"That beautiful First Proposition of Euclid!" the Tortoise murmured dreamily. "You admire Euclid?"

"Passionately! So far, at least, as one can admire a treatise that wo'n't be published for some centuries to come!"

"Well, now, let's take a little bit of the argument in that First Proposition--just two steps, and the conclusion drawn from them. Kindly entered them in your not-book. And, in order to refer to them conveniently, let's call them A, B, and Z:

(A) Things that are equal to the same thing are equal to each other.
(B) The two sides of this Triangle are things that are equal to the same.
(Z) The two sides of this Triangle are equal to each other.

"Readers of Euclid will grant, I suppose, that Z follows logically from A and B, so that any one who accepts A and B as true, must accept Z as true?"

"Undoubtedly! The youngest child in a High School--as soon as High Schools are invented, which will not be till some two thousand years later--will grant that."

"And if some reader had not yet accepted A and B as true, he might still accept the Sequence as a valid one, I suppose?"

"No doubt such a reader might exist. He might say 'I accept as true the Hypothetical Proposition that, if A and B be true, Z must be true; but I don't accept A and B as true'. Such a reader would do wisely in abandoning Euclid, and taking to football."

"And might there not also be some reader who would say 'I accept A and B as true, but I don't accept the Hypothetical'?"

"Certainly there might. He, also, had better take to football."

"And neither of these readers", the Tortoise continued, "is as yet under any logical necessity to accept Z as true?"

"Quite so," Achilles assented.

"Well, now, I want you to consider me as a reader of the second kind, and to force me, logically, to accept Z as true."

"A tortoise playing football would be---" Achilles was beginning.

"--an anomaly, of course," the tortoise hastily interrupted. "Don't wander from the point. Let's have Z first, and football afterwards!"

"I'm to force you to accept Z, am I?" Achilles said musingly. "And your present position is that you accept A and B, but you don't accept the Hypothetical---"

"Let's all it C," said the Tortoise.

"--but you don't accept:

(C) If A and B are true, Z must be true."
"That is my present position," said the Tortoise.

"Then I must ask you to accept C."

"I'll do so", said the Tortoise, "as soon as you've entered it in that note-book of yours. What else have you got in it?"

"Only a few memoranda," said Achilles, nervously fluttering the leaves: "a few memoranda of--of the battles in which I have distinguished myself!"

"Plenty of blank leaves, I see!" the Tortoise cheerily remarked. "We shall need them all!" (Achilles shuddered.) "Now write as I dictate:

(A) Things that are equal to the same are equal to each other.
(B) The two sides of this triangle are things that are equal to the same.
(C) If A and B are true, Z must be true.
(Z) The two sides of this Triangle are equal to each other."
"You should call it D, not Z," said Achilles. "It comes next to the other three. If you accept A and B and C, you must accept Z."

"And why must I?"

"Because it follows logically from them. If A and B and C are true, Z must be true. You don't dispute that, I imagine?"

"If A and B and C are true, Z must be true," the Tortoise thoughtfully repeated. "That's another Hypothetical, isn't it? And, if I failed to see its truth, I might accept A and B and C, and still not accept Z, mightn't I?"

"You might," the candid hero admitted; "though such obtuseness would certainly be phenomenal. Still, the even is possible. So I must ask you to grant one more Hypothetical."

"Very good. I'm quite willing to grant it, as soon as you've written it down. We will call it

(D) If A and B and C are true, Z must be true.
"Have you entered that in your note-book?"

"I have!" Achilles joyfully exclaimed, as he ran the pencil into its sheath. "And at last we've got to the end of this ideal race-course! Now that you accept A and B and C and D, of course you accept Z."

"Do I?" said the Tortoise innocently. "Let's make that quite clear. I accept A and B and C and D. Suppose I still refuse to accept Z?"

"Then Logic would take you by the throat, and force you to do it!" Achilles triumphantly replied. "Logic would tell you 'You ca'n't help yourself. Now that you've accepted A and B and C and D, you must accept Z!' So you've no choice, you see."

"Whatever Logic is good enough to tell me is worth writing down," said the Tortoise. "So enter it in your book please. We will call it

(E) If A and B and C and D are true, Z must be true.

So it's quite a necessary step you see?"
"I see," said Achilles; and there was a touch of sadness in his tone.

Here the narrator, having pressing business at the Bank, was obliged to leave the happy pair, and did not again pass the spot until some months afterwards. When he did so, Achilles was still seated on the back of the much-enduring Tortoise, and was writing in his note-book, which appeared to be nearly full. The Tortoise was saying "Have you got that last step written down? Unless I've lost count, that makes a thousand and one. There are several millions more to come. And would you mind, as a personally favour--considering what a lot of instruction this colloquy of ours will provide for the Logicians of the Nineteenth Century--would you mind adopting a pun that my cousin the Mock-Turtle will then make, and allowing yourself to be re-named Taught-Us?"

"As you please!" replied the weary warrior, in the hollow tones of despair, as he buried his face in his hand. "Provided that you, for your pat, will adopt a pun that the Mock-Turtle never made, and allow yourself to be renamed A Kill-Ease!"
12:22 pm

He stood there. In a cape and nothing else. Naked man Defender of nudity!
Wednesday, November 7th, 2001
3:24 pm
with a piece of buttered rye bread in my left hand, a glass of milk in the other, I make my approach into the world.
1:48 pm
And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

-Pablo Neruda
1:38 pm

1:37 pm
It's so nice out. Looking through a window the cold air seems to shove right against the pain, and yet stepping out the door, as if spring lost its memory, a cool zephyr swirls up from the leaves and passes over my face. The world is ripe!
1:05 pm
The Committee
So hi and hello Jordusha and Sir Froglegs , thanks for welcoming me to the committee. We start tomorrow on the search for the treasures.
1:04 pm
So I've been perusing over various peoples journals -and it's just one big complaint to humanity.
Nothing wrong with the whole depression expression thing, but I just wish people could see what I see when I look at the world. And now that I'm writing that, I see a lyrical coincidence. hmmmm.
12:52 pm
And than it hit me. I'm gonna look at back these golden days and sigh. And sigh some more.
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