Fun with Solipsism

Ah, solipsism. The ultimate in philosophical douchebaggery, solipsism posits that solipsists can't be sure that anything apart from their "self" exists at all - they may just be dreaming everything that they perceive happening to them. In essence, solipsists believe that they are God of the particular universe that they inhabit, and are only dreaming everything that happens within it.  If this is true, however, then every time a solipsist faces death, he or she faces a dilemma - either they are wrong, and the outside world does exist, or they are right, and just too lazy to go on living.

Because solipsism is almost always presented by its proponents as a search for truth, and because in death they can finally answer the question for themselves, it is clear that in an argument with a solipsist, non-solipsists who also seek truth have a duty; beat the solipsist to death with a chair. If the solipsist is correct, then you haven't actually killed them, because you don't exist. If the solipsist is wrong, though, something interesting happens; both you and the solipsist may be held to be correct. From the solipsist's point of view, the world stops existing, and so he or she was right; it is only their perception that it existed at all, and with no perception, it ceases to exist. From your point of view, the solipsist stops existing, and the problem is solved.

However, solipsists will not claim to have full control over their universe, and if pressed will likely admit that their unconscious mind must control those parts which are not directly under their control, meaning there is no functional difference between a solipsist's "unconscious mind" and everyone else's "universe". No killing necessary, unless they still won't recant, in which case it may qualify as "suicide by thought police."

::Gordon

Favorite Birds

I was driving along one of the many pretty little country roads around Jacksonville - one of the few things this place has going for it, really - and I saw a Painted Bunting! That makes just three that I've ever seen in my life since I started birdwatching when I was 5. They're gorgeous birds, the most colorful in the lower 48 states, and words can't do them justice, so: 

(Thanks Wikipedia! I took a picture of it with my phone, but it's just a little rainbow smudge).

Anyway, this got me thinking; what, when all's said and done, is my favorite bird? Traditionally, my answer has been the Blue Jay, because they're beautiful and a lot of fun to watch. However, having seen one slowly, over the course of 15 minutes or so, behead a robin chick that had fallen out of its nest, I've soured a little bit on the whole "behavior" aspect of them, leaving me only their beauty.

Pretty, but, from experience... evil.

My other answer is the Osprey. I've always been partial to birds of prey as a birdwatcher; for one thing, they're among the easiest of birds to identify, being all very different from one another; for another, they are also interesting to watch, and when you see one being vicious, you feel less betrayed than you do in the case of a pretty, colorful thing that goes "chirp" beheading a defenseless chick. I've liked Ospreys ever since we realized that we had a family living in an old pine next to the pond at our farm. They're easy enough to identify, especially in flight; the black wrist patches and poofy head feathers are seen on no other North American raptor. Plus, they are also really pretty in kind of a ferocious, slightly-insane, crazy-eyed way;

The Painted Bunting, while absolutely amazing to see, is also so hard to find that it's a once-in-a-lifetime event for some birders; funny, because they're actually pretty common, and you can hear their song occasionally around my house. The problem is, they live in the undergrowth, and birds that live in arboreal undergrowth are the most difficult to see, even when they're colored like a neon sign on meth. On the other hand, when you see one, it's a life-affirming event, because it means that you've been living well and have collected plenty of good birder karma.

The Blue Jay, aside from the whole betrayal-of-my-expectations thing, is still a lot of fun to watch, because they apparently have bird ADHD: they're super aggressive towards other birds, "nyah"ing at and dive-bombing others to chase them off from a bird bath or feeder when the jay wants to use it; I've also seen them pick up shinys and carry them around for a while for no apparent reason before dropping them. You haven't lived until you've watched a Blue Jay try to fly while carrying a full bag of potato chips. Still, too barbaric to be my all-time favorite.

The Osprey is pretty and fun to watch, but like all birds of prey it just seems too... regal, somehow, to really get close to. I guess part of it is that if you, say, find a wounded Osprey on the side of the road and try to pick it up or something, it will tear huge chunks out of you and beat you half-senseless with its wings (or so I've heard).  Too unapproachable to really be my favorite bird.

I'm calling it; three-way tie. Yeah, I know it's a cop-out, but... it's just my favorite bird(s), so who really cares?

::Gordon

Proving the haters right

I've held off on starting a blog for a long time in part because I didn't want to confirm the pundits' belief that people of my generation are uninformed, self-centered, and spend way too much time on the internet.

...well, maybe the last two are right, because here I am, blogging. I guess I'm doing this because a) There's nothing else to do that requires much thought, b) I'm self-confident enough (okay, egotistical) to think that I might have something interesting to say, and c)... Well... Why not?

So. I'm probably just going to talk about whatever's on my mind, including (but not limited to): Absurd politics, interesting science, and adjectiveless philosophy, including anything interesting I might be doing, such as (for the next three weeks) visiting Scotland.