VOLUMINA ARMENI

There once was a man who acted like a tower, like a ruler everywhere he went. Everyone was convinced of his regality, his power. 

Then, one day, he encountered an old friend. A true king, who knew the man far before as a child. And seated in a corner with friends in a small village, the man was as a tower to others. 

Upon encountering the king, having sailed to this small village, only a tiny speck compared to the lands and kingdom he ruled, out of chance on his hunt, said, Greetings old friend, welcome, for this is also my land. 

The man who appeared as a tower now took his rightful seat, seen and known as a boy to all. 

Hey, what are you drinking? 

I’m drinking soda. Do you want some?

Maybe later. Is it good? 

Yeah, it’s not bad. 

What about TV. Is that good? 

Let’s stay on topic. That’s a non sequitur. 

Oh, cool, ok. How’s the soda? It looks like you drank it all. 

It’s okay. Thanks.

Oh, I thought it was paint. 

Oh, I’m nonevangelical. 

That makes sense. 

There once was a monk, severed from the church, so vile, so disgusting, so decrepit, it made garbage look like gold. 

He was so dirty, defiling, and disgusting, that it wasn't simply a matter of cleanliness of body, mind, and soul, it was another level. It became philosophical, and scientific schools of thought were born. 

Amidst existential crises upon meeting him, those who met him, became great philosophers along with those already in deep contemplation at his defilement. Statues were erected, great sculpture created, in the name of those who inquired, those who passed away, incapable of finding resolution. Arm chairs were brought in, and The Thinker sculpture of bronze was made there as well in imitation of one of the best, though even he could not solve this dilemma, being solidified mid-quandary.

Upon meeting the monk, some fell into depression, others questioned the meaning of life, scientists were drawn into the depths of research, to understand, to know, why this man was so bad. 

In the end, after numerous schools of thought were born, branches of science created, all simply fell, sciences crumbling in the face of existential impasse, asking, What's the point? Why are we alive? The guy’s dirtier than all things.

Finally, a lawyer arrived, with a girl's hand held tight, and she shouted, That's him, he's the one!

And immediately, all were drawn to grab the dirty monk to place him quickly behind bars. But they couldn’t due to his dirtiness, so they built a prison around him, and thus contemporary monasteries replaced caves. 

Modern scientific research has now outdated humanity’s baseline epistemology. 

Psychology’s boundaries need to be opened to make space for empirical research, not Cartesian or armchair logicians.

Inductive reasoning will always trump the arrogance of deductive reasoning based on cultural norms and ways of thinking imprisoned by logical positivism.

Not only is this the case now, but always has been, without our immediate consent. 

There once was a man who was a saint. 

He saved humanity in prayer and in speech multiple times from world wars, famines, and even extinction. 

He was holy, being regarded as the holiest of all by those who may discern. 

He approached the court of law, upon being needed as witness of a crime. And he did his civic duty. 

Upon attending the hearings, he was seen as good kid in the eyes of the law. For this was his legal standing after years and years of virtuous and holy living in the highest manner.  

One day in heaven, the Father looked at Jesus and said, My Son, my only Begotten, what does the dictionary say in the section L? 

My Father, how are you doing this evening? I miss the sound of your voice. You've been resting for some time. I will look it up for you, Father. 

Turning to St. Michael the Archangel, he asked him to locate and bring heaven's dictionary. 

St. Michael, after a deep search and flight over the library of heaven, located the best and most accurate dictionary he could find, updated by St. Mary, the seraphim, and the angels of heaven. 

Upon approaching the throne of Jesus Christ, the Lord, he bowed and said, in worship, My Lord and my God, my King, the Almighty, behold the book of heaven defining all things. 

Our Father asked that we would bring to him all that is written concerning the section L. St. Michael, commander of my armies, please read to me and to all of heaven, before the throne of heaven and earth, under the holy gaze of the Father and the attention of his ear.

And St. Michael amidst the voice of the choirs of legions of angels, singing hymns of eternal beauty, read, The definition of love, my Lord, is to be Armenian. 

The Father, pleased with the dictionary's definition, St. Michael's reading, continued his rest, knowing that earth was under proper care, chronicling the dictionary as the most definite one of all, for all ages, to the end of time and beyond.

Within the breast of Jesus Christ was Armen, the definition of being Armenian. 

The Gatoghigos of All Armenians upon meeting with the new Pope Leo, was in fact the true Pope of the universe, with the regality and holiness and demeanor and self regard of a true historic Armenian Gatoghigos, from ages hence. Stable, holy, ancient, and anointed with holy Armenian wisdom. 

However, upon the third to fourth picture of their meeting, the Popes switched inner disposition. Our Gatoghigos seemed to begin smiling like a three year old naughty boy and Pope Leo bearing the demeanor and inner disposition of our Gatoghigos. 

Did Pope Leo fit in hours of prayer and a lifestyle of holy demeanor in such a short time? Or is there a trick here, performed by the new Vatican guy in charge? 

I have never seen such demeanor from our Pope, innocent as a dove, not knowing this Pope Leo is in fact a witch and spiritist, stealing his energy and the anointing of the Armenian Church. Further, the masculine and holy accompanying bishops and Vartabeds were smiling like naughty yet nice little boys, highly unusual. 

What is this? A sight never seen before. The Pope of Rome upon half way through meeting, embodying the spirits of the visitors, and the visitors being forced into a boy like spirit and inner disposition that is likely due to the naughtiness and immaturity of the inner life of this American boy Pope sinning daily, with impurity evidently emanating from his skin, palpable just by sight, inhabiting the Vatican for a time. 

Trump: Hey, what’s going on there, Netty?

Netanyahu: Ummm, I think Turkey is coming for us. 

Trump: What are we going to do about that, Netty?

Netanyahu: I’m angry, you are not doing your job. Pshh, I’ve been through multiple Presidents. Come help now! 

Trump: Woah, let’s see here. You go after Turkey, I’ll go for the Panang Curry Duck soup. Let’s see how it goes. Ok, Netty? 

Netanyahu: I’m David, he’s Goliath. I’ll take em down myself. 

Trump: Or maybe, I’m David and you’re Uriah. 

Netanyahu: Hmm..

Trump: Or, I’m Moses interceding, and you’re Israel… Netty…

Netanyahu: when did you learn all this.. theology? 

Trump: Just eat the Panang and I’ll get the Turkey. Thanksgivings coming. You can be the stuffing too. Ok? 

What's up with this talk about AI being bad? It's good! 

Tell me more, said Ali.

Well, it could probably stop wars.

How? 

I'm not sure, but it could do it fast and efficiently. 

I agree. 

Good. Case closed. Stop criticizing a world revolutionizing innovation.

It could also just as quickly and efficiently do the opposite, said AI.

It's not too late. We can improve it. 

It is.

Violating freedom is annoying and induces anger over time. Stealing a possession, a person, being another kind of violation causing distress and anger, while violating someone’s privacy, even body, or mind not necessarily physically, is an attack on the being of a person. This attack is the core of violence and creates a rage so great it becomes greater than the being violated, for that is what is necessary for the continued existence of a person, to overcome the attack on the center of the soul, the core essence of being, by becoming greater. 

Hey, Red Sox are awesome!

Not to me. They’re not. This is my truth. 

Oh, okay. Then I take yours.

What?

Now, you can have some back.

Oh, thanks. 

Now, we can share it. 

Nice, so Red Sox are not awesome to both of us. 

Exactly, that’s why I said the opposite first. 

Bob: Hey, you have a disorder. 

Dandy: Oh, cool, which one?

Bob: The bad one. 

Dandy: Oh, ok, which one is that? 

Bob: I think Bipolar Disorder.

Dandy: No, I don’t think so.

Bob: Then how do you explain your prayer life? 

Dandy: Oh, I’m devout. 

Bob: Then, you have Generalized Anxiety.

Dandy: Cool, I don’t though. I’m calm as a drug. 

Bob: Oh, ok. Maybe, then I think you have schizophrenia. 

Dandy: Oh, that’s serious. I like you though. And I have no fears. 

Bob: Oh, you’re right. You’d probably try to kill me by now if you were. 

Dandy: Maybe I have no disorder. Unimaginable, right? 

Bob: That’s impossible. Look at you, all you’ve done. Praying, spiritual, extreme.

Dandy: Oh, I actually have real faith. 

Bob: Then, you are…

Dandy: I sincerely wish I did, because then you could be right and I wouldn’t have to deal with this problem. 

Bob: Which one?

Dandy: Your evil. It hurts, and the dissonance is too great.