Captian's Log The Beggar’s Bowl 29 Dec 202527 Dec 2025 The beggar smiled through his dirt encrusted face, quickly snatching the coins from his bowl. The hand retracted into his tattered tunic. "Wouldn't," I asked, "it be better to show…
Captian's Log Christmas Eve 2025 24 Dec 2025 Christmas Eve's blessings on you all. I hope it is a joyous day. I'm sick, still. Feeling pretty miserable, to be honest. Thankfully, I can rest these next few days.…
Captian's Log Black 22 Dec 2025 "So what becomes of us when we close our eyes? When we dream? And when we fall past our dreams into that darkness of nothing? What are we when we…
Captian's Log Mirror Mirror on the Net \ Tell Me if I’m Just All Wet 28 Nov 202525 Nov 2025 Hey Grok, what do you think of my little essay? I can't help but feel everyone gets AI wrong. I'm not a tech guy, and so I'm not in love…
Captian's Log Arguing About Porn 5 Nov 202531 Oct 2025 Porn is, by its nature, an abuse of sex, a technological simulacrum of what should be a deep connection with another human being, a dance of heaven and earth turned…
Captian's Log Without Form and Void | A Response 3 Nov 202531 Oct 2025 I remember an old, atheist joke: "When one person hears a voice, that's schizophrenia, but when everybody hears a voice, it's religion." I'm tempted to reply, if everyone can hear…
Captian's Log Suicide of Freedom 1 Nov 202529 Oct 2025 Saw this meme and flipped my lid. And my continuing problems with Libertarian philosophy are: 1. No accounting for the history behind things 2. No accounting for anthropology 3. No concept of…
Captian's Log “I’m Increasing Your Medication” 24 Sep 202520 Sep 2025 "Even a worm will turn, mon ami." "Ah yes, but a worm is an animal." "And what are you, you enlightened son of a dog?" "I don't think . . . if you're just…
Captian's Log Dear Sid, 22 Jul 2025 So, three Biblical ideas occur to me while reading your essay: Whether asked to become birds or bread, God seems to keep stones as stones. I don't think it's as…
Captian's Log On Two Kinds of Death 2 Jul 2025 The staccato scratch of the silent sweeper's bouncing broom—I was watching the man as he worked, pushing the eclectic debris into a pile—was like music. A soft sound, one of…
Tale Told 