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GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

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Miguel

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GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostThu Feb 28, 2013 1:14 pm

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SLEEP PARALYSIS

A phenomenon in which people, either when falling asleep or wakening, temporarily experience an inability to move. More formally, it is a transition state between wakefulness and rest characterized by complete muscle atonia (muscle weakness). It can occur at sleep onset or upon awakening, and it is often associated with terrifying visions (e.g. an intruder in the room), to which one is unable to react due to paralysis. Sleep paralysis has been linked to disorders such as narcolepsy, migraines, anxiety disorders, and obstructive sleep apnea; however, it can also occur in isolation. When linked to another disorder, sleep paralysis commonly occurs in association with the neuromuscular disorder narcolepsy.

Some features of sleep paralysis:

- Eye movements are typically preserved. It more often occurs while sleeping on one’s back.

- Visual and auditory hallucinations often occur and may include a sense of an evil presence, of being touched, or hearing voices or noises in the room.

- Occasionally faces or people may be seen at the bedside.

- A sense of breathlessness (or chest pressure, even someone standing on one’s chest) may exist.

It is common and may be experienced by 20% to 60% of people, depending on the population examined. In a study of college students, 21% were found to have had at least one episode of sleep paralysis, but only 4% had 5 or more episodes. It is believed to be precipitated by sleep deprivation, stress, and sleep schedule disruption. In experiments, it has been shown to occur with disruption of rapid eye movement (REM), or dream sleep.

[Leuyen Pham]
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Re: GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostThu Feb 28, 2013 5:12 pm

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Re: GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostThu Feb 28, 2013 5:33 pm

My favorite quotes from Ayn Rand's Book: Atlas Shrugged


They were happily and radiantly innocent. They were not incapable of the conception that joy is sin.

He knew the general doctrine on sex. Sex was an ugly weakness of man's lower nature. He experienced an emotion of chastity that made him shrink, not from the desires of his body, but from any contact with people that held this doctrine. There were moments when he felt a sudden, violent longing for him, but it was only impatience not pain. He survived it. He was able to survive it, because he did not believe in suffering. He faced with astonished indignation the ugly fact of feeling pain, and refused to let it matter. Suffering was a senseless accident; it was not part of life as he saw it. He would not allow pain to become important.

Pain and ugliness are never to be taken seriously.

His body was designed as consistency of style, a style made of gauntness, of tight flesh, long legs, and swift movements. His features had the fine precision of sculpture. His tall and slender figure had an air of distinction, too authentic to be modern, and he moved as if he had a cape floating behind him in the wind. He had the vitality of a healthy human being, a thing so rare that no one could identify it. He had the power of certainty.

But haven't I the right to be what is now accepted to be human? Should I pay for everybody's mistakes and not be allowed to have one of my own?

The capacity for unclouded enjoyment, he thought, does not belong to irresponsible fools; an inviolate peace of spirit is not the achievement of a drifter; to be able to laugh like that is the end result of the most profound, most solemn thinking.


We're not to be stopped you and I. Forgive me the fear, if I thought I could lose you to them. Forgive me the doubt, they'll never reach you. I'll never be afraid for you again.

His clothes attracted attention, and for the same reason he wore a simple trench coat and a hat with a slanting brim, but they were of such good quality, so flagrantly expensive that they appeared ostentatious among seedy garments of the crowds everywhere, the more ostentatious because he wore them so naturally.


Thought is a primitive superstition. Reason is an irrational idea. The childish notion that we are able to think has been mankind's costliest error. What you think you think is an illusion created by your glands, your emotions and, in the last analysis,
by the content of your stomach.

That gray matter you're so proud of is like a mirror in an amusement park which transmits to you nothing but distorted signals from a reality forever beyond your grasp.

The more certain you feel of your rational conclusions, the more certain you are to be wrong. Your brain being an instrument of distortion, the more active the brain the greater the distortion.
The giants of the intellect, whom you admire so much, once taught you that the earth was flat and that the atom was the smallest particle of matter. The entire history of science is a progression of exploded fallacies not of achievements.
The more we know, the more we learn that we know nothing. Only the crassest ignoramus can still hold to the old fashioned notion that seeing is believing. That which you see is the first thing to disbelieve.


He tried to avoid these thoughts. He had to stand on guard against his own feelings as if some part of him had become a stranger that had to be kept numb, and his will had to be its constant, watchful anesthetic. That part was an unknown of which he knew only that he must never see its roots and never give it voice. He had lived through one dangerous moment which he could not allow to return.

When he had grasped the implications of his laughter he had known that he was now condemned to constant vigilance against himself. Like the survivor of a heart attack, he knew that he had had a warning and that he carried within him a danger that could strike him at any moment.


Everyone agrees that anything you do is good, so as long as it's not for yourself. They have the brain but I have the heart. They have the capacity to produce wealth, but I have the capacity to love. Isn't mine the greater capacity? Hasn't it been recognized as the greatest act through all the centuries of human history?

Wouldn't that be an act of true humanity? It takes no kindness to respect a man who deserves respect it's only a payment which he's earned. To give an unearned respect is the supreme gesture of charity.

There was a time when men were afraid that somebody would reveal some secret of theirs that was unknown to their fellows. Nowadays, their afraid that somebody will name what everybody knows. Have you practical people ever thought that that's all it would take to blast your whole, big, complex structure, with all your laws and guns... just somebody naming the EXACT nature of what you're doing?

Do you wish to know whether that day is coming? Watch money. Money is the barometer of a society's virtue. When you see that in order to produce you need to obtain permission from men who produce nothing...when you see that money is flowing to those who deal, not in goods, but in favors...when you see that men get richer by grat and by pull than by work, and your laws don't protect you against them, but protect them against you...when you see corruption being rewarded and honesty becoming a self sacrifice...you may know that your society is doomed.


Times change and people change with the times...the wise ones do. Wisdom lies in knowing when to remember and when to forget. Consistency is not a habit of mind which it is wise to practice or to expect of the human race.


A beat of time vanished in a heavy silence.

When you strain your energy to its utmost in order to produce the best, do you expect to be rewarded for it or punished?

By every standard of decency, of honor, of justice known to you are you convinced that you should have been rewarded for it?

Then if you were punished, instead what sort of code have you accepted?

You, who would not submit to the hardships of nature, but set out to conquer it and placed it in the service of your joy and your comfort… to what have you submitted at the hands of men?

You, who know from your work that one, bears punishment only for being wrong… what have you been willing to bear and for what reason?

All your life you have been denounced not for you faults, but for your virtues.

You have been hated, not for your mistakes, but for your achievements.

You have been scorned for all those qualities of character which are your highest pride.

You have been called arrogant for your unyielding independent mind.

You have been called cruel for your unyielding integrity.

You have been called anti-social for the vision that made you venture upon undiscovered roads.

You have been called ruthless for the strength and self-discipline of your drive to your purpose.

You bowed to their code and never upheld your own.

You knew that a man needs the strictest of codes to deal with nature, but you thought you needed no such code dealing with men.

Their moral code is their deadliest weapon…so ask yourself how long have you gone accepting it…and WHY?!

If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders what would you tell him to do?


The law which you are denouncing is based on the highest principle, the principle of the public good.

Who is the public? What does it hold as its good? There was a time when men believed that "the good" was concept to be defined by a code of moral values and that no man had the right to seek his good through the violation of his rights of another. If it is now believed that my fellow men may sacrifice me in any manner they please for the sake of whatever they deem to be their own good, if they believe that they may seize my property simply because they need it, well so does any burglar. There is only one difference: the burglar does not ask me to sanction his act.

Why were they ready to denounce their highest moments as a sin? Why were they willing to betray the best with in them? What made them believe that this earth was a real of evil where despair was their natural fate? He could not name the reason, but he knew that it had to be named.


We'll be safe for the first time in centuries. Everybody will know his place and job, and everybody else's place and job. And we won't be at the mercy of every stray crank with a new idea. Nobody will push us out of business or steal our markets or undersell us or make us obsolete. Nobody will come to us offering some damn new gadget and putting us on the spot to decide whether we'll lose our shirt if we buy it, or whether we'll lose our shirt if we don't but somebody else does! We won't have to decide. Nobody will be permitted to decide anything. It will ALL be decided once and for all. There's been enough invented already enough for everybody's comfort why should they be allowed to go on inventing? Why should we permit them to blast the ground from under our feet every few steps? Why should we be kept on the go in eternal uncertainty?

Just because of a few restless, ambitious adventurers? Should we sacrifice the contentment of the whole of mankind to the greed of a few non conformists? We don't need them. We don't need them at all. I wish we'd get rid of that hero worship! Heroes? They've done nothing but harm, all through history. They've kept mankind running a wild race, with no breathing spell, no rest, no ease, no security. Running to catch up with them always, without end...Just as we catch up, they're years ahead...they leave us no chance... they've never left us a chance.


There is no way to disarm a man...except through guilt. Through that which he himself has accepted as guilt. If a man has ever stolen a dime, you can impose on him the punishment intended for a bank robber and he will take it. He'll bear any form of misery; he'll feel that he deserves no better. If there's not enough guilt in the world, we must create it. If we teach a man that it's evil to look at spring flowers and he believes us and then does it we will be able to do whatever we please with him. He won't defend himself. He won't feel he's worth it. He won't fight.

BUT SAVE US FROM THE MAN THAT LIVES UP TO HIS OWN STANDARDS. SAVE US FROM THE MAN WITH A CLEAN CONSCIENCE.

HE'S THE MAN WHO'LL BEAT US!


The man who lost the capacity to feel. He knew that the austerity of the marble face was the form of a disciplined capacity to feel too deeply.

Your country is so incredibly naive. It is such an anachronism. All those talk about liberty and human rights. It's nothing but a verbal luxury of the rich.

He is remembered not as a champion of property, but as a champion of need, not as a defender of the robbed, but as a provider of the poor. He is held to be the first man, who assumed a halo of virtue by practicing charity with wealth which he did not own, by giving away goods which he had not produced, by making others pay for the luxury of his pity. He is the man who became the symbol of the idea that need not achievement, is the source of rights that we don't have to produce, only to want, that the earned does not belong to us, but the unearned does.


He turned to him with a slight jolt, but answered evenly,

"He is not here yet."
"Not yet?"
He seemed startled.
"Are you sure?"
"So I was told."

He lit a cigarette. He wondered, watching him what profession he had chosen, loved and abandoned in order to join this valley. He could make no guess; none seemed to fit; he caught himself in the preposterous feeling of wishing that he had no profession at all, because any work seemed too dangerous for his incredible kind of beauty.

It was an impersonal feeling of wishing, he did not look at him as a man, but as an animated work of art and it seemed to be a stressed indignity of the outer world that perfection such as his should be subjected to the shocks, the strains, the scars reserved for any man who loved his work.

But the feeling seemed the more preposterous, because the lines of his face had the sort of hardness for which no danger on earth was a match.


All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.

That violence is not practical. If my fellow men believe that the force of the combined tonnage of their muscles is a practical means to rule me let them learn the outcome of a contest in which there's nothing but brute force on one side, and force ruled by a mind, on the other.

He can live through it because he does not hold the belief that this earth is a realm of misery where man is doomed to destruction. He does not think that tragedy is our natural fate and he does not live in chronic dread of disaster. He does not expect disaster until he has a specific reason to expect it and when he encounters it; he is free to fight it. It is not happiness, but suffering that he considers unnatural. It is not success, but calamity that he regards as the abnormal exception in human life.

When nothing seems worth the effort, said a stern voice inside his head, it is a screen to hide a wish that's worth too much.

The payment I demand. Not many can afford it. I don't mean your enjoyment, I don't mean your emotion...emotion be damned! I mean your understanding and the fact that your enjoyment was of the same nature as mine that it came from the same source from your intelligence, from the conscious judgment of a mind able to judge my work by the standard of the same values that went to create it.

I mean, not the fact that you felt, but that you felt what I wished you to feel, not the fact that you admire my work, but that you admire it for the things I wished to be admired.

There's only one passion in most artists more violent than their desire for admiration: their fear of identifying that nature of such admiration as they do receive.

I do not care to be admired causelessly, emotionally, intuitively, instinctively, or blindly. I do not care for blindness in any form; I have too much to show.


Lack of faith is the only thing we have to fear! If we have faith in the plans of our leaders, why, their plans will work and we'll have prosperity and ease and plenty.

It's the fellows who go around doubting and destroying morale, it's they who are keeping us in shortages and misery. But we're not going to let them do it much longer, we're here to protect the people and if any of those doubting smarties come around, believe you me, we'll take care of them.

Oh, but don't you see?

It is an invaluable instrument of public security. No enemy would attack the possessor of such a weapon. It will set the country free from the fear of aggression and permit it to plan its future in undisturbed safety.

His voice had an odd carelessness, a tone of offhand improvisation, as if he were neither expecting nor attempting to be believed.

It will relieve social frictions. It will promote peace, stability, and as we have indicated harmony. It will eliminate all danger of war.

What war? What aggression? With the whole world starring and all those people's states barely subsisting on handouts from this country where do you see any danger of war? Do you expect those ragged savages to attack you?

They were eager to believe; he saw the tightening lines of their lips, he saw the occasional glances of suspicion they threw at their neighbors as if the horror that threatened them was not the sound ray, but the men who would make them acknowledge it as horror.

In the eyes of the people such as you see around you...if they will believe, when so told, that an instrument of death is a tool of prosperity would they not believe it if they were told that you are a traitor and an enemy of the state? Would you then rely on the fact that this is not true? Are you thinking of truth? Questions of truth do not enter into social issues. Principles have no influence on public affairs. Reason has no power over human beings. Logic is impotent. Morality is superfluous.


The buildings seemed worn by weeks of summer heat, but the people seemed worn by centuries of anguish. He stood watching them disarmed by an enormous sense of unreality.

That sense of unreality had been his only feeling since the early hours of the morning, since the moment when, at the end of an empty highway, he had walked into an unknown town and stopped the first passer by to ask where he was.

He smiled mirthlessly, knowing that he wondered where he had come from and that no explanation he could imagine would be as fantastic as the truth. He had lost the habit of observing despair as the normal dominant aspect of human existence, so normal as to become unnoticed, and the sight of it struck him in all of its senseless futility. He was seeing the brand of pain and fear on the faces of people, and the look of evasion that refuses to know it, they seemed to be going through the motions of some enormous pretense, and their lives unlived, in dread of something namelessly forbidden, yet the forbidden was the simple act of looking at the nature of their pain and questioning their duty to bear it. He was seeing it so clearly that he kept wanting to approach strangers, to shake them, to laugh in their faces and to cry, "Snap out of it!"

There was no reason for people to be as unhappy as that, he thought, no reason whatever...and then he remembered that reason was the one power they had banished from their existence.

He caught brief snatches of fraudulent voices talking about some sort of new invention that was to bring some undefined benefits to some undefined public's welfare. The words were obviously chosen to convey no specific meaning whatever; he wondered how one could pretend that one was hearing a speech; yet that was what the passengers were doing.

They were going through the performance of a child who, not yet able to read, holds a book open and spells out anything he wishes to spell, pretending that it is contained in the incomprehensible black lines. But the child, he thought, knows that he is playing a game; these people pretend themselves that hey are not pretending; they know no other existence.


People think that the liar gains a victory over his victim. What I've learned is that a lie is an act of self-abdication, because one surrenders one's reality to the person to whom one lies, making that person one's master, condemning oneself from then on to faking the sort of reality that person's view requires to be faked.

And if one gains immediate purpose of the lie. The price one pays is the destruction of that which the gain was intended to serve. The man who chooses to lie to the world is the world's slave from then on.


"I know what it is that they're planning!" he said suddenly, without transition, and I glanced up at him swiftly: I knew the sound of one of his inner explosions.

"There's not a dozen people in the whole world who knows it, but I do the top boys are keeping it secret until they're ready to spring it on the nation. Will it surprise a lot of people! Will it knock them flat! A lot of people? Hell, every single person in this country! It will affect every single person. That's how important it is."

"Affect? How?"

"It will affect them! And they don't know what's coming, but I do. There they sit tonight" he waved at the lighted windows of the city "making plans, counting their money, hugging their children or their dreams, and they don't know but I do, that all of it will be struck, stopped, changed!"

"Changed for the worse of for the better?"

"For the better of course," he answered impatiently, as if it were irrelevant; his voice seemed to lose its fire and slip into the fraudulent sound of duty. "It's a plan to save the country, to stop our economic decline, to hold things still, to achieve stability and security."

The look he saw on his face was almost a smile and almost of gratitude. "I had to tell you about it tonight. I had to tell you. I wanted you to know what tremendous issues I deal with. You always talk about my work, but you don't understand it at all, it's so much more wider than you imagine."

"My job is politics. Politics. Decisions made on a national scale, affecting everything, controlling everybody. A few words on paper,
a directive changing the life of every person in every nook, cranny and penthouse of this country!"


Whenever anyone accuses some person of being unfeeling, he means that that person is just. He means that that person has no causeless emotion and will not grant him a feeling which he does not deserve. He means that to feel is to go against reason, against moral values, against reality. He means...What's the matter? He asked, seeing the abnormal intensity of the man's face.

It's...it's something I've tried so hard to understand for such a long time.

Well, observe that you never hear that accusation in defense of innocence, but always in defense of guilt. You never hear it said by a good person about those who fail to do him justice. But you always hear it said by a rotter about those who treat him as a rotter, those who don't feel any sympathy for the evil he's committed or for the pain he suffers as a consequence.

Well, it's true...that is what I do not feel. But those who feel it, feel nothing for any quality of human greatness, for any person or action that deserves admiration, approval, esteem. These are the things I feel. You'll find that it's one or the other. Those who grant sympathy to guilt, grant none to innocence. Ask yourself which, of the two, are the unfeeling persons. And then you'll see what motive is the opposite of charity.
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Hex

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Re: GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostThu Feb 28, 2013 5:38 pm

Damn, talk about Alpha :shock:.

"When I became," said he, "the becoming became.
I have become the becoming.
I am one seeing myself, divided.
I am two and four and eight.
I am the universe in diversity.
I am my transformations.
This is my coming together.
Here are my selves become one."


-- Egyptian Book of the Dead

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jashutson13

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Re: GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostThu Feb 28, 2013 7:19 pm

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    Loki: Well when a man loves another man....
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jashutson13

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Re: GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostThu Feb 28, 2013 7:22 pm

Just learning how to embed and was just checking how to. Pretty pic.
    Loki: Well when a man loves another man....
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Re: GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostThu Feb 28, 2013 7:32 pm

It's looks magical!!! :D
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Re: GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostFri Mar 01, 2013 12:41 am

I LOVE THIS...LOL!!!


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Re: GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostFri Mar 01, 2013 12:47 am

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It's a bullshit three ring circus sideshow of freaks
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http://instagram.com/bonafide_reality
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Re: GIF/Picture/Video/Quote of The Day

PostFri Mar 01, 2013 1:16 am

^ THAT'S CHURCH B!!!!!
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