Truth, lies, and BS

Discussion in 'Philosophy' started by Julie H, Apr 16, 2017.

  1. Sandy Vongries

    Sandy Vongries Administrator Staff Member

    Julie -- in re: truth. After the first fish, a modest amount retained for bait (numerous WW II survival documents) would not impact survival -- self cutting would. Not smart. Second, you might want to look up the striking position of Copperheads -- they ain't Cobras, and their bites are rarely fatal.

    As regards the poem, observation (+advice) and sunshine never harmed my children.
  2. Me on the couch with a small copperhead:


    Same snake saying "stop tickling me!" (imagine child lying in grass facing it):


    Cookie after meeting a snake:


    Snake after meeting Cookie:


    Cookie was bitten probably more than a dozen times in her younger days. This did not mean "leave the snakes alone." This meant WAR.
  3. PapaTango

    PapaTango Itinerant Philosopher

    Some truth--I hate those snakes. They were everywhere when I lived in Western Virginia for a time as a child. There were large nests of them to be found, and lots of them would come out onto large, flat outcroppings of rock to sun themselves. Sometimes, an errant one--or a timber rattler would fall into the hole under the outhouse. It was wise to look down there before sitting down... :eek:
  4. Sandy Vongries

    Sandy Vongries Administrator Staff Member

    We have Rattlers here -- referred to locally as "Buzz Worms". Two of my dogs were bitten and survived -- so far, the Rhodesian has been either smart or fortunate. The snakes are not too prevalent, I shoot one a year on average. Nello after a nose bite. IMG_0066.JPG
  5. Passing a Truck Full of Chickens at Night on Highway Eighty
    by Jane Mead

    What struck me first was their panic.

    Some were pulled by the wind from moving
    to the ends of the stacked cages,
    some had their heads blown through the bars —

    and could not get them in again.
    Some hung there like that — dead —
    their own feathers blowing, clotting

    in their faces. Then
    I saw the one that made me slow some —
    I lingered there beside her for five miles.

    She had pushed her head through the space
    between bars — to get a better view.
    She had the look of a dog in the back

    of a pickup, that eager look of a dog
    who knows she’s being taken along.
    She craned her neck.

    She looked around, watched me, then
    strained to see over the car — strained
    to see what happened beyond.

    That is the chicken I want to be.​
  6. Sandy Vongries

    Sandy Vongries Administrator Staff Member

    Go for it! Even at my age, gotta admit, my goals are a skosh higher than that. Cluck, cluck!
  7. Empathy
    by Stephen Dunn

    [ … ]

    I was in D.C., on leave from the army.
    It was a woman, of course, who didn’t call.
    Or, as we said back then, a girl.
    It’s anybody’s story.

    But I think for me it was the beginning
    of empathy, not a large empathy
    like the deeply selfless might have,
    more like a leaning, like being able

    to imagine a life for a spider, a maker’s
    life, or just some aliveness
    in its wide abdomen and delicate spinnerets
    so you take it outside in two paper cups

    instead of stepping on it.


    Small Frogs Killed on the Highway
    by James Wright

    I would leap too
    Into the light,
    If I had the chance.
    It is everything, the wet green stalk of the field
    On the other side of the road.
    They crouch there, too, faltering in terror
    And take strange wing. Many
    Of the dead never moved, but many
    Of the dead are alive forever in the split second
    Auto headlights more sudden
    Than their drivers know.
    The drivers burrow backward into dank pools
    Where nothing begets

    Across the road, tadpoles are dancing
    On the quarter thumbnail
    Of the moon. They can’t see,
    Not yet.


    For a Coming Extinction
    by W.S. Merwin

    Gray whale
    Now that we are sending you to The End
    That great god
    Tell him
    That we who follow you invented forgiveness
    And forgive nothing

    [ … ]​
  8. "Your picture that I am looking at would be described as:

    1. true
    2. a lie
    3. BS [aka bullshi*]

    If your picture is none of the above, how would you describe its truth value? What am I getting from it?"
  9. Sony a57 101.jpg Your picture that I am looking at would be described as:

    1. true
    2. a lie
    3. BS [aka bullshi*]

    If your picture is none of the above, how would you describe its truth value? What am I getting from it?
  10. 20170331_144655(0)-04.jpg All depends on you Julie.

    Your ability or lack of ability to read the language of photography.
  11. _DSC4060-06.jpeg Theirs no truths or lies or bs just the photograph.

    You communicate with it or not.
  12. So, lets look at the three photos I've posted.

    The first one a love thing perhaps.....but the bloke looks a bit distant. Just cannot escape from his big hands.

    The second a Arty type photo with an interesting character. Verticals and Horizontals come to mind.

    The third....just a truth of love.

    Theirs no truths or lies or BS just the photograph. How I read the language of these photographs are my percieved truths,

  13. What is that? When is paper with marks on it or a screen with varied colors/tones not a photograph? How do you know?
  14. If your stomach feels queasy about your photo, don't do it.
  15. I found this sermon <,————link to be a wonderful definition of absolute truth.
    You don't have to be a Christian to appreciate it, for there are some
    secular gleanings too.
  16. "But, in the end, unless this is done only on the basis of taste, which is to say, on the basis of the merely aesthetic ... there must be something further that one has recourse to, in relation to making one's judgment."

    "... I know it sounds somewhat absurd being an artist and a Western aesthete, in a sense, to insist on the moral, and I certainly don't mean it in a puritanical sense: but I really think art is basically a moral enterprise. And that the artistry, if you want to put it that way, is the beauty and completeness with which a moral position is asserted."

    "... And I don't mean this in a superior or self-righteous or any holier than thou ways, but almost primitively, as a kind of animal thirst for something solidly real. It's directed to what one really feels and not to what one prefers to feel, or thinks one feels." — Robert Motherwell in a 1960 interview

    How does one know what one "really feels" if it's not what one "thinks one feel"?

    Part of Eve’s Discussion
    by Marie Howe

    It was like the moment when a bird decides not to eat from your hand,
    and flies, just before it flies, the moment the rivers seem to still
    and stop because a storm is coming, but there is no storm, as when
    a hundred starlings lift and bank together before they wheel and drop,
    very much like the moment, driving on bad ice, when it occurs to you
    your car could spin, just before it slowly begins to spin, like
    the moment just before you forgot what it was you were about to say,
    it was like that, and after that, it was still like that, only
    all the time.​
  17. The truth is, Frank is but one link in a chain. Kerouac another.

    Artifice can be(come) truth.
  18. Maybe it's more a matter of unifying them than distinguishing them, of seeing though each of them to the other or seeing in each of them the other.

    An artifice is made which beholds a truth that was there or creates one that now is.
  19. Nice take on that photo!
  20. Just because someone can make a statement in the form of a question, it does not mean that the statement is not BS. I rate the original question as BS.

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