If dogs can't read then...

If dogs can't read then what's the point in writing, right? Of course not. I could sit here and talk negatively about dogs all day and they'll never really know what I said. I mean their master could tell them. They could howl at the moon all night in the hopes that the moon will tell them what I said, but ultimately, they're just dogs.
Or are they?
Right.
Dogs are special. We all know that. Even those of us who don't own dogs. We know that dogs are Gods special gift to humans.
Sure, "The Metaphysician's Waiting Room" isn't a dog lovers blog. But God fits in. And it is my solemn belief that if God had done nothing else, I'd be happy with God just for all the animals that live in all of our homes.
Why do animals get so attached to us? Why do they love us? Is it really "Love"? Does that even matter? Maybe humans are the one's who don't know "Love". Maybe animals get it and they entire planet of animals has been rallying around us humans since Adam and Eve bit the forbidden fruit to pull us around to the right way of thinking.
All those chickens out there, laying down their lives for us, tasting so good even though they'd be good friends if we just talked to them. They're all like Gandhi who said, "I am willing to die for our cause but never to kill." Who knew that all those chickens were dying in non-violent non-cooperation waiting for us to become a gentler, less carnivorous species.
Boy I could really go off on a tangent right now about all the pigs, cows, chickens and other animals that are laying down their lives in the hopes that one day we'll all decide on our own to stop eating them but I'm writing this right next to the Dominicks deli and I'm getting hungry.
Besides this all started with loving animals. I love the friendship and the taste. They are the complete package. I've wrestled with my carnivorousness for years and especially since I've become the flock leader for a flock of 9 (counting me and my wife). All this has led me to the following commandment for myself: "You just don't eat your friends."
There, Charlie, Petey, Zorro, Aiko, Jim, Georgie and Mac; you're safe. Just stop biting me. There's food in your bowl and I'm probably not that nutritious.

My new favorite physicist...

IS.......
Roger Penrose!
He influenced MC Escher...an artist who died exactly 9 months before I was born and who strongly connects with me and whose fractal-type art influences my thinking about physics!
He thinks that all current quantum physics theories including my least favorite, "many worlds" theory, should be rethought!
He's definitely in the minority among "popular" physicists. He's opposed to Steven Hawking's belief in "many worlds".
I wish I was smart enough to lend a qualified helping hand in spreading Penrose's ideas around. I can just say this: learn about Penrose if you don't already know about him.
There.
I posted something.

Originally...

Originally, when I started this blog, I was in the temporary throes of a short lived relapse into the nervous crazies and the blog was a neat mental exercise. The question is: Why is space and the infinite the place I go when I go crazy?
Is it because space and infinity are crazy and so going to one necessarily means going to the other? Yes. That's what it means.
The way the universe works in correlation with the human mind is that one keeps creating the other. It's an amazing loop. And when everything feels terrible, it is. And when everything feels great, it is.
Did you know that when I was sure that there were an infinite number of exact replicas of me everywhere (which made me feel bad and which I have since disproven to my own satisfaction)everything was bad? The whole infinity. It was loaded with a bunch of nervous sad me's everywhere because we were all thinking the same thing: "It doesn't matter what I do or who I love or how I feel because those infinite number of other me's are already doing it."
The concept of the parallel universe is a dangerous thing in the mind of a troubled soul.
Then, after some chai tea latte', I was able to deal with it being okay because I could strive to be the best and that would make me the best in an infinite number of parallel universes. And I would say to my infinite replica's across infinity, "Everything's fine, everybody. Just be cool." And then, an infinite high-five.
Whatever the point was of an infinite number of me doing the same things and infinite number of times left me confused as to what the point of that could be.
That where this blog came from. Trying to figure out a point to things that are irrelevant.
Like: IF there were an infinite number of me doing the exact same things an infinite number of times, what would be the point?
Anybody?
I don't need the answer because I don't believe the premise anymore.
Unless God's a weird jerk who wants those who would ponder such mysteries to believe that they are completely superfluous, redundant and useless by virtue of their infinite exact repetition... I choose not to believe that because...what would be the point of that? And IF you believe in a God of any kind (which I do), you would hope HE/SHE/IT/WE/THEY/VERB had a purpose for what God did.
You would hope.

Made of nothing...

Okay. So if philosophy is worth anything, then, it should exist right? I know, I know, "Cogito Ergo Sum". Not so fast.
Everybody insists on this infinity and eternity existing. And why not? But then that makes you a finite portion of the infinite. And I know, mathematically, a finite portion of infinity is actually undefined but it seems like if you divided infinity into one you'd never get the answer really but as you got closer to infinity the answer would get closer and closer to zero.
What I'm getting at is that it would seem that any portion of infinity is equal to zero or...worth nothing. Perhaps made of nothing.
Yet, here we are. So what's the problem? Where's the mistake?
It would appear that the only thing that's real is the here and now as opposed to the past, the future and way over there. So what does that say about infinity? Nothing. It says infinity is nothing too. In fact, infinity is a concept that can only be assumed or believed in rather than proven.
Frequently you'll find yourself at the conclusion that all that philosophical stuff doesn't really matter much because you believe what you believe. Some even think that what's around them, their life, is only there because you believe it. That's what your brain does all day. Goes around, wrapped in prime meat, believing stuff.
But the meat and the brain...apparently nothing.
So all there is is nothing and belief.
Yet...somewhere out there...God is wearing a robe and a long white beard. Nope. It's a Chicago police mustache.
Why do I believe that? Because the Chicago cops can do anything they want. So can God. It also proves that God is a man. Because even the female Chicago cops are men. Because the male Chicago cops beat the female chicago cops to death and cover it up by making it look like some sort of accident in a sausage vat.
At least, someone believes that...right?
Nothing plus belief equals?...

How many?

How many realities does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Yes.
How many quarks are in a sea scallop?
Maybe.
How many roads must an anti-proton take before we call him a man?
That's what I'm trying to say.
What I mean by that is: We think there are definite answers to stuff in ways that "make sense". Shut up.
You don't even know what sense is.
Oh wait, of course you do. We made "sense" up. Our order faking minds pulling patterns from chaos.
If our brains ordered reality differently, we'd be existing in another "dimension".
Right?
Three.

Repetition vs. variety...

Recently, I became obsessed with the suggestion that there might be infinite numbers of exact replicas of this universe. I took it to heart and could barely function until my meds kicked back in. The problem I had was the idea that no matter what I did, thought, or felt, it didn't matter because someone else...in fact an infinite number of other people were doing the same thing in the same universe, an infinite number of times. Made me feel worthless, irrelevant, trapped, threatened all day long.
But when I regained my composure, I saw something that made me happy.
I saw that, unless the infinite multi-verse was an exactly repeating pattern of universes, realties, etc. ( which suggest an "order" in the universe that only a "creator" could have caused) that there could be no exact replicas of anything in the universe/multi-verse. Why?
Picture, if you can, (and you can't) infinite space and dimensions with infinite worlds. Take a snapshot. Let's just say, for the sake of this discussion that when you look, through some ridiculous coincidence, you see an infinite number of exact replicas of Earth's with the same history of all life and development and, what's more, an infinite number of you looking at the same snapshot.
So at that moment, they all appear to be replicas. However, because the universe (unless God made it and decided to make infinite exact replicas) is not uniform, all the worlds that appear identical are, in fact, all varying times and distances away from each other and all the other universes and worlds around them. Because of that, in the very next snapshot, all of them will have different forces, influences, ideas, etc. pop into each world because of their relationships to the infinite universe around them.
Like Earth #1 has our set of constellations in the sky while Earth #9878798798787323801b is missing a star in Orion's belt. Well, the entire history of that Earth is different than ours because the mythology surrounding that constellation is different...butterfly effect...blah, blah, blah.
But, say those two Earth's have all the same constellations...even the same universe around them...they are all pulled upon by the varying distances, times, and relationships to the other, non-uniformly dispersed universes, worlds etc. around the infinite multi-verse. And, provided they were even the same to begin with, from that moment on, they're all different from each other.
That's not even factoring in all their infinitely different paths to get to that snapshot you took.
Infinitely different histories and futures and relationships to reality around them makes all the, apparently "identical", universes not identical at all.
I just high-fived my replica self symbolically and said goodbye to him at the same time as we may never meet again.

Infinity/Outfinity

I decided I don't believe in infinity because nothing can ever get there or be it. No matter where you go, there's more of where you are. You ever counted to seven? That's not it. It's more than that. That's right. Count to nine. Not even close. How many bowls of your breakfast cereal will get you to infinity? Keep going!
You can talk about all the theoretical features of infinity but the fact is you will never get to those theoretical ends which is because there's always more of something else.
And that's okay by me. Frankly, I don't need it. Infinity acts all cool like it's daring me to understand it. I understand it. It's nothing. Take that Infinity! I just grabbed you by your letter jacket and stared you in the eye as your parents forgot to meet! And now you're fading away on the stage with that prototype rock band.
But this time you won't be saved.
This time around. No one has even heard of you! Everyone just happens to know the perfect and perfectly economical name for every number there is and never even thinks about you anymore.
So who am I talking to then? Outfinity! "Outfinity" is my newest word.
It is a noun and it means "The theoretical idea of a concept of infinity as understood by a reality where infinity doesn't exist."
And Outfinity gets on his Indian Motorcycle and drives off in the Phoenix sun. Or maybe it was the Phoenix Suns riding a motorcycle over an indian forever...Or at least more than seven.