Pointless Man

I am an atheist.  I make comics and write a blog, both entitled 'Pointless Man'.  From these bare facts, one may arrive at two questions: 1) Do I believe life is meaningless? 2) In order to remain consistent and coherent in my thinking, should I believe life is meaningless? and a corollary: 3) If I take life to be meaningless, should I (or be considered) a nihilist? The short and overly simplified answer to these queries is, "No." Religions tend to hold there must be some great arbiter (or set thereof) in order for there to be meaning.  Those who think so will naturally assume atheists either admit to no meaning at large or else have made a mistake somewhere along the line (aside from not adhering to some particular spiritual dogma), but it is not necessarily so.  After all, few will deny me the ability to comprehend what I have written so far or that I have a purpose in doing so.  Nor is it clear how a deity must be around for me to write this, unde...

Robin , Chapter 8 Previous Chapter Few of Lance's fellows stayed on with Robin.  There was general agreement amongst the deserters that bear attacks, little girls, and fires were ill omens in a forest.  Those who remained were loyal, if not to their new leader then at least to their hunting grounds.  They were further united by their somewhat conflicting emotions of love for Robin's theatrical displays and fear of her long sword. Down from a high of thirty scoundrels, Sherman now held six thieves, Robin; the three Wills: Will Scathelocke, (a wrestler of some repute), Will Scarlet (Robin's wayward cousin, it turned out), and Will Stutely (a former derivatives trader who had decided he should be more honest with himself), none of whom would agree to go by 'William'; the one Bill, Bill Mayer, who guarded his singular given name with wit and a tongue as sharp as his knife; and John Jack Johnson, whip quick, just as thin, and the last person anyone would have expec...

Problems with my computer require enough work to set me back from using it (and my scanner) for awhile. The upshot is most of my computing now must be done via my Kindle Fire--though I'm taking a much needed respite as I type this from a library PC.  As a gadget, this kind of tablet is cool.  As a tool, it ain't so great.  And, honestly, that extends to the iPad, as far as my experience goes. I can hardly wait for Microsoft Surface tablets.  I'll just need to find some way to scrounge up the money for one by 2013. As the comic says, "For every problem, a solution. For every solution, a problem."

On a thread at the Stranger 's Slog , I noticed a semi-reasonable gun-rights advocate arguing that all the talk about the various shootings and rampages throughout the US (and any discussion of banning or regulating assault rifles or extended clips) was merely tangential to the issue at hand. What was necessary to have an adult conversation, he said, was a list of desired ends. Granted that his position makes no sense, and flies in the face of how reasoning has typically been done the world over for more than two thousand years, but I thought I'd try things his way for a change of pace. 1) A responsible gun culture (in terms of ownership, politics, and policy), and the fostering of such by federal, state, and local governments and relevant NGOs. 2) Reasonable restrictions and restraints on the sale, ownership, and use of weapons such as guns. 3) Accountability of gun sellers, owners, and regulators in the case of gross misuse, misconduct, or general bloody rampage. 4) That...

ROBIN , Chapter 7 Previous Chapter The next morning, in the false dawn, while the majority of the thieves slept and their sentries continued to drink, Robin snuck into their camp.  First, she found her pet pony.  Then, dropping a glazed ham in front of Bucskin's tent, she opened up a jar of honey, and let it drizzle on the ground as she and the pony made their way back into the forest.  Soon, a bear traced her path into the bandit's midst.  Just as the beast settled down to enjoy its breakfast, a flaming shaft flew past its ear and embedded itself in a tent.  This deserved little of the bear's attention, but when more such arrows were loosed and the fire began to spread, that was a concern.  The camp's sentries thought so too. Of course, no one likes to be roused from drunken slumber into hungover-reality, still less to be so awoken by roars, cries, and the clanking of pots and pans, but that was the thieves' alarm system--whatever else might be sai...

Robin , chapter 6 Previous Chapter That afternoon, Robin fulfilled her childhood dream of buying a pony.  In short order, she also purchased a cart and several barrels filled with liquor for her pet to pull.  Before the sun set, Robin and her acquisitions were well along a road Bucskin's men liked to patrol. As Robin travelled, suspicious figures dressed in green began to filter out of the forest, falling in a ways behind the cart.  In all, there might have been a baker's dozen.  They tried their best to appear harmless, though none would mistake them for anything but bandits as they hungrily sized up the girl and her cargo.  When the robbers felt certain of their quarry, they unsheathed their daggers with a shout, and drew around the cart.  Robin let herself be surrounded before making a brief show of trying to run. ROBIN-- Scurrilous thieves!  Scoundrels!  Scum! LANCE-- [slipping away his dagger and stepping forth from among his cohor...

Robin , chapter 5  Previous Chapter Robin kept herself busy through her unemployment doing chores and practising martial arts, but mostly she spent time playing in the woods.  The bears avoided her, and she kept out of the thieves' way, as much as she could.  This was no easy task, for Sherman's Forest had its share of scoundrels. Chief of these was Lance Bucskin, infamous for scamming old ladies and still more renowned for his hatred of puppies, which he would kick whenever the chance arose.  Even his own men found his proclivities distasteful, but he had a way with weapons and highway robbery which held his fellows in awe. LANCE-- [clad in all green with a pointed cap; has a devil may care attitude; close cropped blond hair with a well waxed van dyke beard; 28 and in peak condition, he loves exhibiting his physical prowess as much as he enjoys booting little dogs; he is holding up a family as his rapt minions stand by] They're really not all that hard to im...