独白

“不属于一个世界，却想要安稳，安稳的灰尘，别说永恒，阿门。”

有那一刹那工夫，德尔特里重新感觉到自我的存在，在同伴的问候中醒过神来，微笑着向他们示意。但人群将他们分开，他只能远远的看着俩个同伴被人流裹挟到舞台的另一边，冲着正在狂欢的人群，微微叹了口气。
他现在站在了靠近舞台边缘的地方，倚在面前为了隔离舞台和疯狂的人群而设的缓冲台上，虽然是露天临时搭建起来的，但台面已经被各种各样的涂鸦和速绘所填充，依稀还能看出这个舞台的主题图案。他竭力摆出一副逍遥自在、乐在其中的架势，但他忽隐忽现的存在感，躲躲闪闪的眼神，却暴露了他内心深处的不安与惶恐，当他举目四盼时，总是避开一个地方。
上个乐队刚刚完成演出，台下的欢庆却没有结束，在大雨后泥泞的场地中，不时的有人被抛起，又在惊呼声中被接住再度抛起，而在稍远的休息区，结束演出的乐队周围，人头攒动，人们一会儿散开，一会儿又推推搡搡的向前涌动，一会儿围的水泄不通，一会儿又形成一个个漩涡。在另外一边的舞台周围，人群随着乐队的表演而起舞，脚下的草地已经彻底成为一洼沼泽，铺上的草垫被拖开，而更有疯狂的人开始在泥地里玩起了摔跤，泥人围成一个圈站起来，于是有更多的泥人，更多的尖叫声，更多的欢笑声诞生。
久未等到乐队出场的观众开始躁动起来，他们手挽手的站成一排，笨拙的在草垫上跳起了舞，身上的泥斑和近乎一样的笑脸让人都分不出男女。在乐队的鼓手从台下跳上台的时候，人群爆发出了一阵欢呼声，争先恐后的拥到舞台前。鼓手颇为滑稽的向观众致意，坐到了爵士鼓后，在一段紧密的鼓点之后，乐队的键盘手来到了台前，随后是一段花样百出的独奏，迎来每位乐队的成员的编排都各不相同，也得到了人们的喝彩声和鼓掌声。接着乐队演奏起来，人们又推来挤去，随着音乐打起了节拍。天色这时候已经完全暗下来，但舞台上炫目的灯光和休息区耀眼的照明，使得整个公园的上空五光十色，甚至远较白天明亮。每个人似乎都漫无目的的渴求着什么，每个人也都沉浸在这热烈而激动的气氛中。
他退出了拥挤的人群，尽管距离舞台已经有一段不短的距离，但每下鼓点都仍然像是踩在了他的心上。他闭上了眼睛，试图从这光怪陆离千幻万变的世界中脱离，只有这时候他才会痛恨自己敏锐的听觉，因为就在这纷乱嘈杂的现场，他也仍然可以清晰的辨出主唱妖冶的声线中那种痛苦和渴望的心情，心头一下子萌起孤寂的人所常有的那种无法排遣的那种妒忌与情欲交错，兴奋与悲苦并存，执拗与绝望主导的哀伤感。无疑，他是多么渴望生活中能再度出现那光明和希望的天使……
琳恩……从灵魂深处涌上的一股柔情，让他唤出了这个名字。这个名字背后的美人儿仍然站在他离开她的那块地方，欢快明亮的眸子，娇小的鼻子，天真而甜美的酒窝。她正手拉着她的同伴聊天，时而点头，时而用她诡谲的目光盯住同伴，时而开怀大笑。她们在谈些什么，究竟什么能让她们一直滔滔不绝的谈论下去？唉，这些话都是从雪山之上的圣泉汩汩流出的，欢快，纯洁，取之不尽，用之不竭。而他呢，耽于愤怒与异想，自绝于他人，又受着表达欲的折磨，古板，迟钝，缺少激情，即使在狂欢的气氛中仍试图保持他自以为是独一无二的思考能力，这又如何能使他享受到这种淋漓畅快谈话的乐趣呢？他想要竭力避开二人的视线，却怀着炽烈的欲望和慷慨大度的心情，不得不停下离开的脚步，向她们望去。即使人群已经将他隔开，他仍然感觉到妒火中烧——她们如释重负会心的微笑。
很显然，在这群团团围住他的狂欢的人群中，他是最不起眼的而又总显得格格不入的一个，他想要随着音乐的节奏亢奋，却又被理性所束缚，恼恨的心情让他在人群里漫无目的的挤来挤去，他急于摆脱这种矛盾的存在：厌世却又不得不依附于这样的一个世界，内心的疯狂让他支离破碎，表面上却仍然是物欲的囚徒，为了生活而挣扎。他对于自己的本质，是再清楚不过的，有一回，他在自省的时候写道：“我们这种孤寂的人，是与世隔绝的梦想者和找寻自我存在意义的疯子的集合；游离于生活之外，整日冥思苦想。一旦我们置身于人群中，仿佛额头上烙有知识和恐惧的标志，人们四散奔逃，竭力躲开我们真知灼见的目光，这种标记让你与平凡规矩的人开始产生裂痕，一条知识且感情上的鸿沟，我们充满讥嘲，而人们则抱着怀疑和反抗的态度在对面远远的向我们致以礼节上的问候：我们把怪异和邪恶作为理想，我们遗弃了生活，我们毁灭了欢乐的源泉。但恰恰相反，我们从未让生活的愁苦征服，我们只是长于观察并归纳事物，即使是世界上最令人痛心的事物，我们仍能保持内心的平静，这种平静的代价就是抱着一种悲天悯人的态度去探讨一切却不能原谅一切。一旦我们了解到事物的本源，那冗长的表达与那一瞬间的狂喜相比是不值一提的——在一群富有才华却麻木不仁的人群中表达你点点滴滴的新见解无疑是沉闷和令人绝望的，同时，在狂喜的那一瞬间却总是为表达的欲望所困扰：在云海之中那种欣欣然的快乐并不能让你对周遭的每片云产生新的理解，在火海之上那种痛苦的煎熬也并不会让你对炼狱的景象有丝毫的怜悯。但正是这种对于任何事物的平常态度让生活的一切都充满了意义。因此，尽管“生命”本身也并没有特殊的意义——我们并不把追求那瑰丽的生命幻象看作是什么崇高和伟大的事业，我们所追求的也是正常的生活，平淡却富有诱惑力的日常生活。”
在这乌托邦一般存在的梦幻气氛之中，他摇了摇头，让这些断断续续的思绪散开，不知不觉中他已经站到了一个小丘上，远远望去，流动的色彩沿着斑斓的光线蜿蜒的漫游过来，远远近近的人潮逐渐成为夜幕中的麦浪，随着风声上下起伏。“生命，天生就要透过感情的泪幕去观察，去接近，去了解。当你面带微笑，彬彬有礼的在理性的掩护下向这精神的对立面发动一轮又一轮的攻势时，你却能从内心的魔鬼那听到痛骂和斥责——这实在是虚伪，冷漠，简直是可耻，可恨，可恶！”他暗自忖度道，“即使你对所有真理麻痹，迟钝，无动于衷，还带着一丝嘲弄，也绝不能让这理性的恶魔吞噬了你。对于热情且生机勃勃的一切美好事物的追求，对于友谊、爱慕和溢于言表的幸福的渴望，才是作为精神对立面的生活的本质，它并不用鲜花来点缀，也不用鲜血来衬托，更不用伟大或粗犷的美丽幻象来构成，它来自于我们所不能融入的“日常生活”的平凡和亲切之中。”
“我们可曾为这种虚伪感到自豪？恰恰是这种虚伪孤寂的外表掩盖了内心的炽热，尽管这种无目的的虚伪已经为我们带来了如此多的伤痛和悲伤，我们却总是听信于这条毒蛇的丝丝耳语，它总是在为我们自己也为它本身开脱：精神活动能够给爱情带来一个更完美的结合。我们乐此不疲，以玩弄仅剩的那点分析能力为我们的生活做点缀。但是，究竟要和谁在一起呢？和谁一起呢？无疑，和一个普通人交朋友的时候，我会抛开面纱，以之为骄傲和幸福，但直到现在，无论是在生活中，还是在内心，我所交的不过是一群堕落的鬼怪和麻木不仁的幽灵。我们这样的人，该如何与那狂欢的人群在一起？又该如何用可怜的语言来表达心中的狂喜与恼恨？不，我们这些“可怜虫”，是不能也不屑于与你们这样奇装异服而从不需要精神生活的人在一起的。”
夜风吹来一段颇为华丽而热情奔放的萨克斯曲调，是键盘手的即兴表演。他从舞台上隔着缓冲台欠下身子向观众讨来了一支，在手中玩了几个花样的音符后吹起了霍金斯的《The one I love》。在这个沼泽地中伴着音乐的节奏跳碎步舞是不可能了，但观众的兴致丝毫没有减退，相反，在这么一首感伤尖锐的曲目演奏中，狂欢达到了高潮，莫西干和脏辫的金属党们开始互相抱团打滚，躲闪不及的无论男女都被吸引住，拖出脚下的草垫往正在泥团里翻滚的人们身上扔去，想要埋掉他们，在草垫之上，有更多的疯狂的人跳了上去，形成了一个在公园中央的人山……德尔特里的目光又转向了那位娇媚可爱的美人儿，她的素白长裙看上去仍然干干净净，当然，她也为人群的气氛所感染，笑意盈盈，旁边的同伴正在鼓动她向那纵乐的人群扔去草垫……
看着狂欢的人群，德尔特里的心中突然升起了一股不可遏制的怒气——他恨不得自己就是那个被压在最底下动弹不得的人，这股怒气甚至让他挥舞起双手来。“我大可以做那个平庸无奇的人，而我却选择了凌驾于你们之上！难道我就不会坚持到底，在你身边盘桓，等待那即将来到的幸福吗？我怀着这嘲讽的情爱，长于观察和分析事物的眼睛一眼看穿了你的灵魂，我该怎样去表达你那总是微笑的外壳之下那追求尘世欢乐的愚蠢幸福的心？”
但这股由妒忌而来的怒气旋即消散，只剩下那股在胸膛中仍然喋喋不休的执拗劲，他感到迷茫，而他的同伴却未能适时的唤醒这走神的他——他们也在人山的中间，显然腾不出手来向他致意。恶魔和天使在他的耳边低语：“你应该静坐不动，保有你内心深处的那点清明，你是善于观察的，是长于理解的，而这爱，这活生生的生活，却恰恰是你成长的代价。”“真诚而谦逊的生活吧，热烈的表达你的爱慕与赞美吧，让这甜蜜而弥足珍贵的经历充满你的心灵吧！投身于这洪流之中，成为他们的一分子，为了你平凡的生活，痛饮几口这不含表达欲的狂喜之酒吧！”他突然一个冷颤，意识到自己突兀的存在，他慌慌张张的收起了那副充满愤怒紧锁双眉的表情，慌慌张张的从小丘上走下来，慌慌张张的想要离开这荒诞的所在——他想要找一个阴暗安静的角落，唯一阻止他的就是一个若有若无的信念“琳恩会知道我已经离开了吗？”
她会看到他的离开么？他抱着希望停下脚步，转头看向了她的方向，内心在默默的祈求。但很快他就意识到，这根本无济于事，彼此无法接近，不能相互了解，没有任何希望。他只能选择奔逃，不敢回头，不敢停步，甚至无法为此流泪，因为在恶魔的诱惑之下，这荒芜的精神世界中早已消除了那作为人类本性之一的恻隐之心与悲痛的存在。
“祖先啊，我向你致以背叛和奔逃，
我背叛，再次背叛，
逃亡，再次逃亡，
把恶名写在阴云密布的青灰色天空，
以足迹，以泪，以血，
让神的风从我的左心房进去，右心房出来，
而风会鼓荡在我的肋骨和衬衣之间。
请让我奔逃，如初恋，如私奔，如初生的鹿。”
他慢慢的穿过昏暗的大街，步履蹒跚的回到宿营区，宿营地空空荡荡，只有稀稀拉拉的几个帐篷从裂缝中透出了一点灯光。他走过这些帐篷，依稀能听到人们的窃窃私语。他的脑海一片空白，机械的检查帐篷，机械的脱去衣物，机械的钻入睡袋，什么也不能想，什么也想不了的躺在那里，听着远处的嘈杂，听着达到顶点的狂欢声，听着纷乱而疲惫的人们互道晚安的声音。天使告诉他要思考，却没有告诉他应该思考些什么。
“朋友，你可曾思考过，在面对丰富心灵的种种情感之时，不可能有虚无主义者。”
他恍惚的爬出帐篷，身边点点篝火，远处细不可闻的音乐，抬头星光闪耀的夜幕，万千思绪占据了他的全部，让他不能有丝毫的懈怠，他想要理清，却总也摆不脱那素白的身影，终于，这夜幕幻化出各种各样的色彩，那是神的形象和光芒，在宇宙的中心扭曲着，闪电，雨滴，泥潭，雷电交加中，眼泪止不住流下来，默然无语。忽然，这夜幕又幻作荒凉多风的街巷，他低头迎风像梦游者一样行走在远处点着一盏忽明忽暗的燃灯的巷子里，巷子很长，除了那盏飘忽不定的豆灯，只能依稀听到远处的钟声，到底是什么在痛苦的燃烧着又化成疲惫的灰烬？一刹那间，天色又明亮起来，他所熟悉的尖顶教堂，他所熟悉的来自遥远梦境的甜蜜的芬芳，他所熟悉的沉闷的钟声，却始终有一层薄纱和云雾笼罩在他的知觉之上，或许，就在前面，前面，他就能够醒过来……
在这半梦半醒之间，他喃喃自语道：“爱，假若不痛，又怎么能证明存在过呢？”

你所想谈的不过是青蛙，一大堆青蛙

“这儿，你可以看见她瞅人的目光是多么骄傲，那是普劳提娅，自爱；那面露微笑，永远鼓着掌的是科拉基娅，奉承；那个看起来一半睡着了的是勒忒，遗忘；那用双肘支着脑袋坐着，身上香水浓郁的是西朵妮，享乐；那瞪着眼睛跑来跑去的是阿诺伊娅，狂乱；那肌肤光滑、因饮食过量而身材丰腴的是特吕弗，淫荡；至于你看见的和她们在一起的两位神明，一位是科摩斯，放纵；另一位是伊格莱托.许普诺斯，死般的沉睡。”
　　——伊拉斯谟，《愚人颂》
　　
　　我向来喜欢那种荒诞与现实映照的小说，刘易斯.卡罗尔的《爱丽丝漫游仙境》《爱丽丝镜中奇遇》以及马尔克斯的《百年孤独》是我百读不厌的名篇，在那些看似疯狂的场景背后，却隐藏着理性的光辉与锋芒。因为，攀至最高处的理性往往距离疯狂的深渊仅有一步之遥。
　　
　　在我看来，《1988》意味着韩寒在疯狂的道路上疾驰，一如他在赛车场上的灵动与快速，在这其中主导的却不是理性，而是那种非理性的肆意宣泄的情绪。写这本书的时候他看上去已经停不下脚步即将滑向深渊，却在实际生活中俨然是青年代表和大众偶像，你能想象的出比这更加意淫和荒诞的场景么？韩寒没有写出这点，但他身体力行，这不得不说是一种莫大的讽刺。
　　有题材上的创新？略萨和博尔赫斯在三十年前就写尽了。有写作技巧上的创新？十个字一行不用引号的对话早在巴尔扎克的年代就是那些写一手烂文的作者常用的手法。故事讲的好么？穿插着回忆和随想，还不是现代主义文学的那种内心独白，倒像是让人看不懂的蒙太奇剪切。最后，韩寒到底想和这个世界谈什么？
　　韩寒说他写的最爽的一本书就是这本了，没错，他写的爽，写的满意，但只是他的情绪的宣泄，在他所独创的“情绪”概念下。因为那些断断续续的画面甚至称不上意境。在我看来，韩寒大概准备创造自己的流派了，因为看上去这整本书就是大杂烩，现实主义的对话，现代主义的心理活动，再加上魔幻现实主义的所谓“若有若无的飘渺世界和点
　　点滴滴的忧伤情绪”，他妈的，我煮罗宋汤也没这么多料。问题是，这么多料做起来还不是一锅罗宋汤，稀稀拉拉的，让人提不起一点食欲。我不知道韩寒的辍学生涯是啥样的，我只知道我高中的时候读他的《三重门》觉得不错，是我同龄人的普遍回忆，而且扎实的基本功和熟练的文字技巧是我所远不能及的，我整个高中都在模仿他的写作风格。于是，在十多年的浪迹生活与十多年的求学生涯对比下，韩寒，我，彻底成为陌路人，因为他成名之后那种暴躁且复杂多变的心绪已经不是我这种默默无闻但一直走在自己坚实的路上的人所能理解和赞同的了。
　　
　　韩寒说，我觉得我写小说比较好。
　　我说，求您了韩大爷，您还是接着去写您那维护社会正义与世界和平的杂文吧。好歹，写完杂文，您还能语出成锋：“我不和女士争辩”，而在小说里，除了“流沙”和“六月”这样的文字技巧，他已经再也跳不出哪个习惯性思维的圈子了。他自以为孤独并以此为骄傲，其实却在商业化的包装下人云亦云中愈发的走向沉寂：我分明记得韩寒出现在新浪体育的头条新闻里，纳闷了很久，恍然大悟，“我首先是个赛车手”。嗯，他始终是那个蹦跶并欢笑着却被一把扣上盖子的 “温水中的青蛙”，纵使哐当哐当的引来了一圈回音，最终也在咕咚咕咚冒泡的沸水中僵死，而他自以为赛过天雷的歌唱与呐喊，也高不出周围锅碗瓢盆齐鸣的进行曲。
　　
　　也罢，当贾平凹写出《废都》的时候，我断言说贾平凹独特不再；当王小波写出《白银时代》，我断言说王小波泯然众人；如此，韩寒写出《1988》，他已经黔驴技穷。但愿我是错的，因为我也曾是那个异想天开以为可以跳出锅去的青蛙，但现在，我还是老老实实的转身，看看厨师们有没有在锅里留下一把汤勺。

健身房三两趣事

上次去健身房好像都快一个礼拜了，今儿个下午下了决心又去了一次，练完器械后发了狠跑了个半程马拉松，下来的时候有点腿软，在更衣室的柜子上捣鼓了半天，那把破锁竟然就是没弄开，这时候旁边一哥们凑过来：“新生么？你看，这样，这样……”我很无语，我又没穿迷彩，又没把卡挂胸口，加上三四天没刮的胡茬，满脸的阅尽沧桑，你从哪看出来我是大一的新生啊！硌应人也不能这样啊！那群新生在下面广场上震天响的“团结就是力量”也被您选择性无视了么？哦不对是选择性失聪。他们军训完了不嫌累还要来健身房再加点运动量？我军训的时候可是瘦了10斤，困的时候躺操场跑道上都能睡着。

想起来好几件这样的趣事了，第一次去健身房的时候前台MM就说“帅哥，你是要衣柜的钥匙么？”也许我心理太阴暗了，觉得这话也挺硌应的。据说相貌平平的对美女和帅哥的叫法都很高兴，而漂亮到极致和丑到极致都会对此产生抵触心理，前者认为我漂亮还用你夸么？后者认为你这存心硌应人，当然，要排除凤姐这样的自信心极端膨胀的……我自认从头到脚就没多少地方长对了位置的，这个……

还有一次，我正在跑步机上努力的与这笨重肥硕的身体做搏斗的时候，健身房的教练过来检查旁边的一台机器，从更衣室出来一哥们，观察那教练捣鼓了两分钟之后，对教练说：“新来的？嗯，这跑步机是按这个下去，再按这个加速……”那哥们还自言自语，说：“咦，这台好像坏了，要不你换台吧”。我和教练面面相觑，感觉只能是，无语，囧……正常情况下我会跑四到五千米，那天我只跑了两千米不到就收工了，原因？我得从跑步机上下来找个地方笑一会去，我怕多憋一会就有内伤了……

最乐的一次还是在更衣室里，某天一哥们心血来潮要和我一起去健身，但和我一样属于摘了眼镜就伸手不见五指的那种，他上完有氧搏击的课之后就喊累的不行，这倒是很正常，刚来的都这样，问题是他洗完澡没戴眼镜就对着旁边那位肌肉发达体型优美的帅哥说：“哎呀，这健身是挺有效果的啊，三个月就见出效果来了，你看这胳膊，你看这腹肌，你看这小腿。”说完还拍拍对方肩膀，我正纳闷他和那哥们很熟么，这样拍人家会不会以为他是搅基的啊？只听那帅哥说：“呃，是啊，你是……？”我那哥们赶紧的把眼镜掏出来戴上，仔细观察了一番，讪讪道：“这个，不好意思，我认错人了，这个，我近视的比较厉害……”我说兄弟，我知道你有这个搞基的潜力和倾向啊，人很白，又很帅，但你看人家gay在搭讪的时候至少是像《费城故事》里一样是在书店和酒吧啊，您这个在更衣室里，大伙都光着身子，不太好吧……何况您连眼镜都没戴，也看不清谁帅谁丑吧，最重要的是，你觉得你兄弟我有那么好的肌肉么，我这一块腹肌和人家的六块能比么……自此之后，也仅此一次，这哥们再也不来健身房了。

据说运动可以带来乐趣，依我看，此言不虚，确实可以带来乐趣，而且独乐乐不如众乐乐，还有可以分享的乐趣。

P!=NP，To Be Continued

P!=NP
http://www.hpl.hp.com/personal/Vinay_Deolalikar/
To Be Posted Shortly.

For the next several days,everyone focused on this particular problem
http://michaelnielsen.org/polymath1/index.php?title=Deolalikar%27s_P!%3DNP_paper#Possible_issues
To Be Continued.

又开始漫无目的的想象和码字了

很多时候觉得自己太懒，一天一天又一天的，日子就这样从我飞快敲打键盘和急速点击鼠标的手指间穿过，说实话尽管这个过程如丝绸划过一般的顺畅，但是，在你停下来思考的时候你却是带着空虚和负罪的心情去思考问题，跳了一下，想到了最近看到的那个电击的思考者。
花了三天读了爱伦.坡的《厄社府之倒塌》，恐惧随影而至，过后却是一种如释重负一般的轻松，恐惧果真来源于愤怒。
昨天码了一下午的字，今天再读一遍，还行，只改了很少的东西，计划把这块已经构思完的先写完吧，可能会有个十数万字，这种过程难得如此的流畅，至少比我背红宝书七天四个list要流畅很多倍，继续。

All Hail To Charles Dodgson!

看到伯顿的《爱丽丝漫游仙境记》的预告片，首先的感觉是维多利亚时期的英文果然是听不懂的…想起来一段：

“这首歌的名字叫做‘Haddock’s Eyes’。”
“哦，歌的名字真的是这样？”爱丽丝说道，想表现出一点兴趣。
“不，你并不明白，”骑士有点愠怒，“这是人们对它名字的称呼，它真正的名字是‘The Aged Aged Man’。”
“那么就是说，‘那首歌是这样称呼的’？”爱丽丝连忙纠正自己的说法。
“不，这是另外一码事！这首歌被称作‘Ways and Means’，但只是它被称作那样而已 ！你明白吗？”
“那么这首歌到底是什么？”爱丽丝已经完全被搞糊涂了。
“我正要说到正题，”骑士说道，“这首歌实际上是‘A-Sitting On A Gate’，调子是 我自己创作的。”

这
段的来源似乎是某本讲C语言混乱声明的书里看来的，为此特地找来了《Through the Looking
Glass》读了一遍。说实话两本书我都不完全记得内容了，不过这段倒是倒背如流…然后我的思维又跳到了Sheldon
Cooper的Bazinga，有的时候出彩之处不在于如何的意味深长，而是一种逗趣式的。Well,for whatever we love
that shows us the fancy part。

It Comes to Be Our Time

http://player.youku.com/player.php/sid/XMTU1NTA0NDAw/v.swf
之所以说回忆总是美好的，思考总是无意义的

老美左派也疯狂

If you’re reading this, you’re no doubt asking yourself, “Why did this have to happen?” The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time. The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn’t enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken. Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it. I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head. Exactly what is therapeutic about that I’m not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

We are all taught as children that without laws there would be no society, only anarchy. Sadly, starting at early ages we in this country have been brainwashed to believe that, in return for our dedication and service, our government stands for justice for all. We are further brainwashed to believe that there is freedom in this place, and that we should be ready to lay our lives down for the noble principals represented by its founding fathers. Remember? One of these was “no taxation without representation”. I have spent the total years of my adulthood unlearning that crap from only a few years of my childhood. These days anyone who really stands up for that principal is promptly labeled a “crackpot”, traitor and worse.

While very few working people would say they haven’t had their fair share of taxes (as can I), in my lifetime I can say with a great degree of certainty that there has never been a politician cast a vote on any matter with the likes of me or my interests in mind. Nor, for that matter, are they the least bit interested in me or anything I have to say.

Why is it that a handful of thugs and plunderers can commit unthinkable atrocities (and in the case of the GM executives, for scores of years) and when it’s time for their gravy train to crash under the weight of their gluttony and overwhelming stupidity, the force of the full federal government has no difficulty coming to their aid within days if not hours? Yet at the same time, the joke we call the American medical system, including the drug and insurance companies, are murdering tens of thousands of people a year and stealing from the corpses and victims they cripple, and this country’s leaders don’t see this as important as bailing out a few of their vile, rich cronies. Yet, the political “representatives” (thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags is far more accurate) have endless time to sit around for year after year and debate the state of the “terrible health care problem”. It’s clear they see no crisis as long as the dead people don’t get in the way of their corporate profits rolling in.

And justice? You’ve got to be kidding!

How can any rational individual explain that white elephant conundrum in the middle of our tax system and, indeed, our entire legal system? Here we have a system that is, by far, too complicated for the brightest of the master scholars to understand. Yet, it mercilessly “holds accountable” its victims, claiming that they’re responsible for fully complying with laws not even the experts understand. The law “requires” a signature on the bottom of a tax filing; yet no one can say truthfully that they understand what they are signing; if that’s not “duress” than what is. If this is not the measure of a totalitarian regime, nothing is.

How did I get here?

My introduction to the real American nightmare starts back in the early ‘80s. Unfortunately after more than 16 years of school, somewhere along the line I picked up the absurd, pompous notion that I could read and understand plain English. Some friends introduced me to a group of people who were having ‘tax code’ readings and discussions. In particular, zeroed in on a section relating to the wonderful “exemptions” that make institutions like the vulgar, corrupt Catholic Church so incredibly wealthy. We carefully studied the law (with the help of some of the “best”, high-paid, experienced tax lawyers in the business), and then began to do exactly what the “big boys” were doing (except that we weren’t steeling from our congregation or lying to the government about our massive profits in the name of God). We took a great deal of care to make it all visible, following all of the rules, exactly the way the law said it was to be done.

The intent of this exercise and our efforts was to bring about a much-needed re-evaluation of the laws that allow the monsters of organized religion to make such a mockery of people who earn an honest living. However, this is where I learned that there are two “interpretations” for every law; one for the very rich, and one for the rest of us… Oh, and the monsters are the very ones making and enforcing the laws; the inquisition is still alive and well today in this country.

That little lesson in patriotism cost me $40,000+, 10 years of my life, and set my retirement plans back to 0. It made me realize for the first time that I live in a country with an ideology that is based on a total and complete lie. It also made me realize, not only how naive I had been, but also the incredible stupidity of the American public; that they buy, hook, line, and sinker, the crap about their “freedom”… and that they continue to do so with eyes closed in the face of overwhelming evidence and all that keeps happening in front of them.

Before even having to make a shaky recovery from the sting of the first lesson on what justice really means in this country (around 1984 after making my way through engineering school and still another five years of “paying my dues”), I felt I finally had to take a chance of launching my dream of becoming an independent engineer.

On the subjects of engineers and dreams of independence, I should digress somewhat to say that I’m sure that I inherited the fascination for creative problem solving from my father. I realized this at a very young age.

The significance of independence, however, came much later during my early years of college; at the age of 18 or 19 when I was living on my own as student in an apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. My neighbor was an elderly retired woman (80+ seemed ancient to me at that age) who was the widowed wife of a retired steel worker. Her husband had worked all his life in the steel mills of central Pennsylvania with promises from big business and the union that, for his 30 years of service, he would have a pension and medical care to look forward to in his retirement. Instead he was one of the thousands who got nothing because the incompetent mill management and corrupt union (not to mention the government) raided their pension funds and stole their retirement. All she had was social security to live on.

In retrospect, the situation was laughable because here I was living on peanut butter and bread (or Ritz crackers when I could afford to splurge) for months at a time. When I got to know this poor figure and heard her story I felt worse for her plight than for my own (I, after all, I thought I had everything to in front of me). I was genuinely appalled at one point, as we exchanged stories and commiserated with each other over our situations, when she in her grandmotherly fashion tried to convince me that I would be “healthier” eating cat food (like her) rather than trying to get all my substance from peanut butter and bread. I couldn’t quite go there, but the impression was made. I decided that I didn’t trust big business to take care of me, and that I would take responsibility for my own future and myself.

Return to the early ‘80s, and here I was off to a terrifying start as a ‘wet-behind-the-ears’ contract software engineer… and two years later, thanks to the fine backroom, midnight effort by the sleazy executives of Arthur Andersen (the very same folks who later brought us Enron and other such calamities) and an equally sleazy New York Senator (Patrick Moynihan), we saw the passage of 1986 tax reform act with its section 1706.

 For you who are unfamiliar, here is the core text of the IRS Section 1706, defining the treatment of workers (such as contract engineers) for tax purposes. Visit this link for a conference committee report (http://www.synergistech.com/1706.shtml#ConferenceCommitteeReport) regarding the intended interpretation of Section 1706 and the relevant parts of Section 530, as amended. For information on how these laws affect technical services workers and their clients, read our discussion here (http://www.synergistech.com/ic-taxlaw.shtml).
SEC. 1706. TREATMENT OF CERTAIN TECHNICAL PERSONNEL.

(a) IN GENERAL Section 530 of the Revenue Act of 1978 is amended by adding at the end thereof the following new subsection:

(d) EXCEPTION. This section shall not apply in the case of an individual who pursuant to an arrangement between the taxpayer and another person, provides services for such other person as an engineer, designer, drafter, computer programmer, systems analyst, or other similarly skilled worker engaged in a similar line of work.

(b) EFFECTIVE DATE. The amendment made by this section shall apply to remuneration paid and services rendered after December 31, 1986.

Note:

“another person” is the client in the traditional job-shop relationship.
“taxpayer” is the recruiter, broker, agency, or job shop.
“individual”, “employee”, or “worker” is you.
Admittedly, you need to read the treatment to understand what it is saying but it’s not very complicated. The bottom line is that they may as well have put my name right in the text of section (d). Moreover, they could only have been more blunt if they would have came out and directly declared me a criminal and non-citizen slave. Twenty years later, I still can’t believe my eyes.

During 1987, I spent close to $5000 of my ‘pocket change’, and at least 1000 hours of my time writing, printing, and mailing to any senator, congressman, governor, or slug that might listen; none did, and they universally treated me as if I was wasting their time. I spent countless hours on the L.A. freeways driving to meetings and any and all of the disorganized professional groups who were attempting to mount a campaign against this atrocity. This, only to discover that our efforts were being easily derailed by a few moles from the brokers who were just beginning to enjoy the windfall from the new declaration of their “freedom”. Oh, and don’t forget, for all of the time I was spending on this, I was loosing income that I couldn’t bill clients.

After months of struggling it had clearly gotten to be a futile exercise. The best we could get for all of our trouble is a pronouncement from an IRS mouthpiece that they weren’t going to enforce that provision (read harass engineers and scientists). This immediately proved to be a lie, and the mere existence of the regulation began to have its impact on my bottom line; this, of course, was the intended effect.

Again, rewind my retirement plans back to 0 and shift them into idle. If I had any sense, I clearly should have left abandoned engineering and never looked back.

Instead I got busy working 100-hour workweeks. Then came the L.A. depression of the early 1990s. Our leaders decided that they didn’t need the all of those extra Air Force bases they had in Southern California, so they were closed; just like that. The result was economic devastation in the region that rivaled the widely publicized Texas S&L fiasco. However, because the government caused it, no one gave a shit about all of the young families who lost their homes or street after street of boarded up houses abandoned to the wealthy loan companies who received government funds to “shore up” their windfall. Again, I lost my retirement.

Years later, after weathering a divorce and the constant struggle trying to build some momentum with my business, I find myself once again beginning to finally pick up some speed. Then came the .COM bust and the 911 nightmare. Our leaders decided that all aircraft were grounded for what seemed like an eternity; and long after that, ‘special’ facilities like San Francisco were on security alert for months. This made access to my customers prohibitively expensive. Ironically, after what they had done the Government came to the aid of the airlines with billions of our tax dollars … as usual they left me to rot and die while they bailed out their rich, incompetent cronies WITH MY MONEY! After these events, there went my business but not quite yet all of my retirement and savings.

By this time, I’m thinking that it might be good for a change. Bye to California, I’ll try Austin for a while. So I moved, only to find out that this is a place with a highly inflated sense of self-importance and where damn little real engineering work is done. I’ve never experienced such a hard time finding work. The rates are 1/3 of what I was earning before the crash, because pay rates here are fixed by the three or four large companies in the area who are in collusion to drive down prices and wages… and this happens because the justice department is all on the take and doesn’t give a fuck about serving anyone or anything but themselves and their rich buddies.

To survive, I was forced to cannibalize my savings and retirement, the last of which was a small IRA. This came in a year with mammoth expenses and not a single dollar of income. I filed no return that year thinking that because I didn’t have any income there was no need. The sleazy government decided that they disagreed. But they didn’t notify me in time for me to launch a legal objection so when I attempted to get a protest filed with the court I was told I was no longer entitled to due process because the time to file ran out. Bend over for another $10,000 helping of justice.

So now we come to the present. After my experience with the CPA world, following the business crash I swore that I’d never enter another accountant’s office again. But here I am with a new marriage and a boatload of undocumented income, not to mention an expensive new business asset, a piano, which I had no idea how to handle. After considerable thought I decided that it would be irresponsible NOT to get professional help; a very big mistake.

When we received the forms back I was very optimistic that they were in order. I had taken all of the years information to Bill Ross, and he came back with results very similar to what I was expecting. Except that he had neglected to include the contents of Sheryl’s unreported income; $12,700 worth of it. To make matters worse, Ross knew all along this was missing and I didn’t have a clue until he pointed it out in the middle of the audit. By that time it had become brutally evident that he was representing himself and not me.

This left me stuck in the middle of this disaster trying to defend transactions that have no relationship to anything tax-related (at least the tax-related transactions were poorly documented). Things I never knew anything about and things my wife had no clue would ever matter to anyone. The end result is… well, just look around.

I remember reading about the stock market crash before the “great” depression and how there were wealthy bankers and businessmen jumping out of windows when they realized they screwed up and lost everything. Isn’t it ironic how far we’ve come in 60 years in this country that they now know how to fix that little economic problem; they just steal from the middle class (who doesn’t have any say in it, elections are a joke) to cover their asses and it’s “business-as-usual”. Now when the wealthy fuck up, the poor get to die for the mistakes… isn’t that a clever, tidy solution.

As government agencies go, the FAA is often justifiably referred to as a tombstone agency, though they are hardly alone. The recent presidential puppet GW Bush and his cronies in their eight years certainly reinforced for all of us that this criticism rings equally true for all of the government. Nothing changes unless there is a body count (unless it is in the interest of the wealthy sows at the government trough). In a government full of hypocrites from top to bottom, life is as cheap as their lies and their self-serving laws.

I know I’m hardly the first one to decide I have had all I can stand. It has always been a myth that people have stopped dying for their freedom in this country, and it isn’t limited to the blacks, and poor immigrants. I know there have been countless before me and there are sure to be as many after. But I also know that by not adding my body to the count, I insure nothing will change. I choose to not keep looking over my shoulder at “big brother” while he strips my carcass, I choose not to ignore what is going on all around me, I choose not to pretend that business as usual won’t continue; I have just had enough.

I can only hope that the numbers quickly get too big to be white washed and ignored that the American zombies wake up and revolt; it will take nothing less. I would only hope that by striking a nerve that stimulates the inevitable double standard, knee-jerk government reaction that results in more stupid draconian restrictions people wake up and begin to see the pompous political thugs and their mindless minions for what they are. Sadly, though I spent my entire life trying to believe it wasn’t so, but violence not only is the answer, it is the only answer. The cruel joke is that the really big chunks of shit at the top have known this all along and have been laughing, at and using this awareness against, fools like me all along.

I saw it written once that the definition of insanity is repeating the same process over and over and expecting the outcome to suddenly be different. I am finally ready to stop this insanity. Well, Mr. Big Brother IRS man, let’s try something different; take my pound of flesh and sleep well.

The communist creed: From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.

The capitalist creed: From each according to his gullibility, to each according to his greed.

Joe Stack (1956-2010)

 

如此，遗书，http://embeddedart.com/ 不过这个已经因为访问量过大挂了。

唯一的遗憾是，这哥们套的是句无政府共产主义的名言啊……

BTW：IT民工一位，唔……

真的，愤怒来源于恐惧

总是很愤怒，经常有想裸奔的冲动，虽然三年前已经试过了。原来自己还是什么都没变。
又想起来《返老还童》里我给的评论：无数人梦想着二十岁的身体，六十岁的心灵。其实，六十岁的身体也何尝不是梦想着二十岁的心灵呢？
为何愤怒？愤怒的理由有很多种，但究其根本，恐惧。发自你内心的恐惧，你害怕了，退缩了，当你身体内的反应开始告诉你需要一层外壳来保护你，你用愤怒来推开一切事物，继续缩在自己那异常脆弱一戳就破的保护壳里。
善变的是人，害怕改变的还是人。

致0210

这两天实在太热，于是中午躲到图书馆看书准备随机的考试，坐在SA0810一帮哥们的旁边，刚好他们有个在米国的同学回来了和他们一起聊的很high，有点小感觉。当然，还有很多原因写这点东西，譬如在lipeng同学的机器上看到了dayunit的生日照片，或者多数研三快要毕业的同学们开始奔向各自的美好前程，只剩下wisly whroc几个博士还有两年的好时光，又或者和一些人的对话，哦还有我现在的硕士同学ckiss那篇关于SA0810的文章让我有了这么点感觉：我还是把一点自己的想法写出来好了，憋着实在不是什么好的选择。

开了个头，自己却不知道怎么写下去，因为实在是乱七八糟很多事情一齐涌出来。如果我语无伦次，或者含糊不清，再次就是胡言乱语，那也很正常，因为我就是这么一个混沌和矛盾的综合体，很少能够在过去的数年内感觉到快乐，而是一种表现愈加明显的抑郁症状，但又会间歇性的表现出一种歇斯底里的开心。希望如上描述没有吓到0210诸位亲爱的同学，因为少有人能够走进我的世界，也少有人能够真正理解这种混乱思想的来源，即使我自己有时候也会为自己的天方夜谭一般的想法吓一跳。能够作出这样一个含糊而不精确的描述，我还是着实费了点工夫。或许是从02年进入大学到现在，思想上的变化太大太快，让自己有点分不清现实，也有点让自己发晕，就像我清楚的记得一句自己说过的话一样：无论什么经历，或者好或者糟糕，总是有可以汲取营养和再加工的部分。接收的东西太多太杂，有的时候就免不了这种症候。但请诸位再耐心一点，我这样对自己作一个定义：混沌和矛盾的综合体，精神上趋于极致的完美，甚至由此而陷入一种颠狂的状态；但是，基本上，我是一个正常的，积极向上的，有着美好理想的八零后，当然有的时候免不了会有点装B(我从未试图否认的一点)，会有一点小自我陶醉，会有一点能够被多数人理解的那种狂想。

总体而言，能和这样一个颇有出彩之处的集体共处四年，非“荣幸”二字不能胜任：人生是如此长的一段过程而且常有不如意之时，在我的人生轨迹中能和你们这样一群可爱的人的人生轨迹交汇并共同前行了一段距离，我深感荣幸，在这样一个团结友爱且常有惊人之处的团体里生活了四年，并且最终很幸运的(尽管三年前的我还并未意识到这一点)在你们的帮助下完成了学业。我有两样很宝贵的东西，其中一样是一封xiajc动笔很多人联合署名的信，一直都保留着，而且我猜我会一直留着，时至今日，尽管多数人可能已经不会来这里逗留，我还是要说：谢谢。

其实我要说谢谢的人实在太多了，如上文所提及的dayunit，还有如ftofficer cesc incognito liangwg等等等等，当然还有我的几位室友xiajc，lowspeed，newcastle，robbiebaggio，小弟当年拿年幼无知当借口，得你们帮助尤多。还有billtian，作为当年0210的生活辅导员，还有教我们物理的苑震生老师，戚伯云老师，微积分老师朱国城，还有如pjf这样的，得其潜移默化的影响，实愧于今日之心

贴一篇去年发给xiajc的信件吧，某日发癫半夜没睡着想了些东西：前俩天晚上看东西看到俩点半去WC回来，突然在楼道里昏黄的灯光下想通了一些事情。包括你，包括某个诋毁我的人，包括很多同学，包括一些工作的时候同事们。大概是第三次了，去年在杭州的时候一天晚上独自一个人在西湖边闲逛，还有个很热的夏天的晚上洗澡的时候，再就是这一次了…醍醐灌顶的感觉？Time never be back,someday,someway.你认真对待生活，生活就给你一个认真的答案。

其实我已经不知道该怎么继续描述我的这点莫明其妙的感觉了，因为很多事情不停的浮现在我的脑海中，雪花样的，笑容，沮丧，怒吼，拥抱。我剩下的感觉就只有很无力的向诸君弯腰鞠躬说：谢谢；谢谢；谢谢；谢谢……

一直以艾青的某句诗为挚爱：为什么我眼中常含着泪水，因为我对这土地爱的深沉。如此：为什么我眼中常含着泪水，因为我对这集体爱的深沉。