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Passive (Angel) and Active (Devil): the controversy that both should be fed

Posted 21 March 2003, 6.50 pm by Shaggy

You do not think of it, but you separate things categorically. If there is an action, it is more likely to be considered an act of the Devil. If it is passive, then how can it be possibly evil?

The war is an issue that you sometimes wonder about. A man named Abdullah in Iraq can actually be quoted as saying "I am glad the US has come. Saddam needs to be disarmed. He is a butcher." Still, Bush is acting. Surely, then, this must be a consideration of the devil. Angels cause you to sit with a thumb up your ass: Devils cause deaths.

Which is better, no one knows.

The same problem is inherent in the Canadian judicial system concerning health care. Currently, it is legally easier to leave a person suffer days, weeks, and even months of unwanted pain simply because people are afraid to give physicians the power to inject Potassium Chloride, ending the intolerable pain a terminally ill patient might suffer. What people do not realize is that you cannot have a person half-killed: it is inhumane. We do not "half-kill" our animals, because that would be cruel, so why is it cruel to ALLOW someone to be half-dead and in torturing, mind-numbing pain?? In fact, in this case, it would be morally problematic to say that "at least the physician cannot be blamed for killing someone."

Take this into consideration: You have someone burning alive in a car, and the doors have been welded shut with the heat. You are a hunter, let's say, and have a gun on your person. This person is screaming, and there is no way to save them before they die. Their body is being stewed in its own juices.

If you say that you would walk away simply because, that way, you could say "I didn't kill him!" Then you should re-examine why you wouldn't pull the trigger.

Granted, not everyone can pull a trigger in that scenario. Not everyone can be a garbage man. Simply because YOU would not have the stomache for it, does that make it immoral? Is surgery, then, immoral, because the majority of people I know cannot handle the gore and blood involved. Okay, we have a world where surgery does not exist. There will be a ton of innocent deaths, an outpour of pain, but hey, I wouldn't have the heart to be a surgeon. It must be wrong.

Action does not equal shame or immorality. Nor does killing. Nor does sex, nor does anything that can be considered an action. Simply because something is unpleasant, does not mean that it is morally wrong.

The reason I am saying this is because: I am too passive, and I feel that I have caused my own misery because of it. I avoid happiness in many ways, because happiness is often an action is often "wrong" by many people's standards (most notably my own). I am morally opposed to my own drinking, use of drugs, sexual exploits... et cetera. The greatest sin I allow myself is playing video games when I should be working, or even writing a front page article when I should be working on an essay. And you know what: I am damned sick of it. The only thing that gives me pleasure anymore is talking to myself, because while it is not a sin, it IS an action, an action that the majority of people consider "different" or, at least, "noncomformist." While I cannot bring myself to steal, murder, maim, fuck, cheat, drink, do drugs, et alia, at least I have the comfort of knowing that I can do things differently, I can be different, and I am comforted in the fact that, if I was a physician, and I needed to, I would have no quarrels with injecting someone with Potassium Chloride to end a bitter life that has no redeeming quality.

While I am not a murder, if it was required of me I believe strongly that I could be a killer.

Think of me differently, if you will. Curse me, if you will. Call me "anti-democratic," or "anti-humanist," but I believe that people should be protected from pain, oppression, and whatever negative effects of life that they can, and I'll be damned before I will allow myself to be a "half-Killer".


Posted 21 March 2003, 11.57 am by DemonAnton

Ever wondered what google thinks of you?


"anton is a terrific destination for singles to meet people and ski during the winter and enjoy outdoor activities during the summer

Dream Story

Posted 18 March 2003, 11.15 pm by Strawberry

Intro: Yes, this story is essentially based on one of my dreams. I just take the basic outline of the events in the story, and build from there. So this may be actually in the middle of the story when (if) it gets finished, things may change in it, etc. Plus, I'm not sure on the names, or what even to name the story. Anyways (takes a deep breathe) here it goes (in first person):

The ship Star Raptor came into the next system. I glanced at Buddie as I looked at the coordinates in the computer and the vast blankness outside. "Are you sure you got the coordinates right, Budamac?"
“I told you, it's Buddie. And yes, I'm positive that the coordinates are correct. Not only do I have a photographic memory, but also I wrote it down in my books, and everything. They are right. Why?"
“Well, it's just that...there is nothing there. There is the planet and the moons, but I see no ship station. At least not at this side of the system."
Buddie, who was in the seat diagonally behind me in a reclining position, apparently glad he didn't have to fly a ship for once, bolted up from his seat. "That's impossible! They said that there would be a few people left on board it until I arrived, and that it would stay put."
“Who are 'they'?"
Buddie shook his head, "It doesn't matter now. If they abandoned the station, they'd be systems away by now. We gotta find that station!" He was right behind me then, leaning over my shoulder trying to see all the readings on the console.
“Would you please give me some room," I pushed him back, "I'll see what I can do...I'll orbit the planet and see if I pick up any signs of it being here."
"It was here! I know, because I was here to see it. I wouldn't buy it blind," He was getting very agitated and annoying at this point. I was almost ready to snap.
"Look! I'll do what I can! You're the one that hired me to escort you here with a possibility of future jobs. Now let me do my job. I WILL get you there, any way I can. Now sit tight and relax. I'm going to go in orbit with the planet," I was half yelling at him. The poor guy was scared half to death, I think. I doubted that he would question my judgment with piloting a ship after that.
So we went in orbit. Going into orbit is a little bumpy at first, but once the systems have adjusted, it was smooth sailings. But my ship was running low on energy, so it would take about 5 space days to finish the orbit. As if the trip to this system wasn't bad enough holed up in this small ship, we get delayed a few days.
I adjusted very well, I think. Buddie and I spent a lot of time at the front of the ship, reviewing computer readouts to try to figure out this puzzle. The other too deck crew that were with us spent most of there time in the back monitoring the engine's output, making sure we had enough energy to land on the planet if we didn't find the station.
They were pretty long days in that ship, but I think I learned a lot. I already knew a lot from my previous experiences as a pilot on odd missions, but Buddie showed me a lot of tricked of the trade. We also had some nice talks together. I think we really connected that orbit.
Then came day 3. Buddie and I were discussing various ships and modifications. I was in my pilot's seat, relaxing a bit, with my legs crossed resting on the co-pilot seat. Buddie was sitting in the chair behind me; pointing out various ships he has had experience in and the pros and cons of each. Suddenly, the sensors beeped. I put my feet on the ship floor and straightened up.
"What's up?" Buddie asked.
I looked at the readouts. "I think we found it. Only 15 minutes away." I looked up at the window. It had a beautiful view of the planet, a mixture of white-grays, blues, and an odd purple-pink on the vast globe. I pointed off in a distance to the slight right. "Should be showing up beyond that horizon."

AKpCEP two years on

Posted 18 March 2003, 10.11 am by Alexander

Well folks, it's March 18th - which means today is the second anniversary of the birth of

Thanks to all the users past present and future who have submitted their work, debated and spent time here. AKpCEP wouldn't be what it is without you all!

Please leave your birthday wishes in the comments below, and here's to another 2 years!


Has this guy gone crazy?!

Posted 17 March 2003, 4.08 pm by Craig

Visit Site.

Ghettoify yo'self!

Posted 15 March 2003, 7.09 pm by Alexander

From now on I shall be known as Sexxmaster Kawfi.

Click here to find out your ghetto name, then post it in the comments yo.

Last Shining Moment

Posted 13 March 2003, 3.21 am by Jake

“Have you ever wanted something so bad, yet it was just out of your grasp?” The man shifted in his chair and lifted his glass of bourbon to his lips. “You wanted to take it, to control it, but it never, ever happened?”

The fat man’s eyes danced nervously behind his thick horn-rimmed glasses. Beads of sweat formed on his bald head. He stammered “S-s-su-sure. Everyone’s had that at one point in their lives.” The bearded man looked at him, took another sip of bourbon, and puffed on his cigar, lost in thought. “That’s the way I’ve been with life,”said the bearded man. “I took many things for granted and have regretted them, but it’s not going to happen anymore. I will be understood. I will be noticed, respected, feared.” The bald man looked away for some sort of diversion….a waitress, a bar patron, anything.

“Pay attention to me, Hans.” The bald man shifted his gaze back to the bearded man. “Listen, John. This is fucked up. This is beyond fucked up. I don’t know where you’ve been, who you’ve been hanging out with, but you’ve changed. I used to think that you were a pretty rational guy. Since about three months ago, I got no fuckin’ clue who you are anymore!! You’re a weirdo! You’re an asshole! You’re just different!” John chuckled and stroked his beard. “Nice to see that you’re still fond of me after all these years, Hans. And I thought we were friends.”

Hans glared back at John. “Yeah, well, friends don’t start talking about weird shit and how the world owes them! There’s life out there, man! There’s things to be done! You don’t sit here and be jaded about how everything was, and you especially don’t carry a fuckin’ grudge! Times are changin’, man! Embrace the future, for God’s sake!” His rapid-fire statement seemed to catch John off guard. Hans wiped the sweat from his bald head, and John promptly slapped his hand and ripped it down to the table in one swift motion. “Goddamn it, Hans! Listen to me. I don’t need you spouting things off about my ideas and plans. I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t somewhat confide in you, you slimy little sack of dog-shit! Look at you sweating like a slave! You’re scared, just like the spineless little girl that you truly are! Now if you’re not going to keep your mouth shut, Hans, I’m going to have to do something about it! And chances are, you’re not going to like it. Now, are you willing to shut your sweaty, fat, frothing little trap and let me explain what I want from you? If not, the results won’t be pretty. I assure you. I promise, you. What’s the call, Hans?”

Hans squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “Okay, John. What do you want from me? How can I serve YOU? How can I make life easier for YOU? Just let ME know, I’ll be glad to help YOU.” John slapped Hans across the face with a quick right backhand. Hans quaked in his seat, and John moved closer. “Shut UP, Hans. If you don’t shut up right now I swear to Christ that you won’t make it out of here in anything more than a Tupperware container.” Hans did the smart thing, and shut up. “Now. In this briefcase, I have approximately $100,000. I want you to take it, along with this backpack. I want you to go down to the Federal Building, and put this backpack in Locker 113. It’s in the Public Archives. You’ll find the key in the briefcase, along with the $100,000. Now, don’t open this briefcase until you get into the Public Archives. Trust me. Don’t do it. After you put the bag in Locker 113, you can walk away with the briefcase full of cash, no questions asked. Just do this one favor for me, Hans, and all will be fine for you in the world.” Hans shifted again in his seat, and nodded.

Hans walked into the Federal Building with an odd twitch in his gait. He nervously squeezed by a Security guard, and used the ID card that John provided for him in order to get into the Public Archives without being searched. He rushed into the file room and shut the door behind him. He leaned up against it and breathed an exasperated sigh of relief. He walked over to the locker and set the backpack on the floor. Turning around to a nearby table, he set the briefcase upon it and entered the combination to unlock if. 666. He opened it and saw nothing but stacks of neatly cut and banded newspaper. His mind screamed FUCK as he looked from side to side. Up in the corner of the top of the case, there was a small LED attached to a black box the size of a pack of cigarettes. Inqusitively, he touched it. A beeping noise began to whine from the box, and his bowels turned to water. The backpack began to beep as well, and started to vibrate against the locker. He heard the faint metallic buzzing, and had time enough to get down on his knees and pray before the backpack exploded.

When I was yer age . . .

Posted 10 March 2003, 10.14 pm by Alexa

A little while ago, I went into the local record store to return a CD. Not even opened. Tight and secure in it's clear wrapping. I talk to the man at the counter who has yellowish sweat stains that are more than apparent, on his 'Styx' tee shirt that is 3 sizes to small for his round body. I tell him that I need to return the CD. He asks what’s wrong and I tell him I got it as a gift but I already had it. He looks me up and down and says "Well, since you don't have the receipt, I bet you probably just burned it and wrapped it up again. You most likely didn't even get it from this store.". He reeks of onions and cheap cologne. Even though the CD still has the label from the store on it, the plump little man doesn't seem to care. So, one week later, I bring daddy in with me. No problem. Dad's a big man with a beard and slightly intimidating features.
I'm still debating if he didn't listen to me because I am a teenager, or because I am a woman. Maybe it's a little bit of both.

And sometimes I'll get a response to something I said like 'Yeah, when I was your age, I was shallow too'. Sometimes I wish I never said I was 16. I bet most people would treat us differently if they didn't know our ages. In all honesty, would you REALLY lecture me on how superficial I am if I was three or four years older than you? Granted, most of you do have more experience, but in the whole grand scheme of things, twenty isn't that old. Don't get me wrong, I take the advice most times, but sometimes you make me feel so . . . little.

When you were 'my age' and your parents warned you about something or someone, did you listen? Probably not. Most people who are 'my age' think that there parents are idiots. (Sometimes they are right, but that’s besides the point). The point is, would you really talk down to me if you thought I was 40? Better yet, would you talk down to me if you thought I was a 40 year old man? I don't think you would.

Because as much as we swear we don't stereotype and we aren't biased, we all are.

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I took this photograph in North Vancouver, by the water. These birds are everywhere, all the time. If you are standing in the middle of a crowd of these birds, you realize just how horrid they are. The photo I took actually makes the birds look respectable and that's why I like it.


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Props to Green Mamba for bringing the weirdness


80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!


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