Archive for February 11, 2009
Feb
11
Vices are Not Crimes: A Vindication of Moral Liberty
Vices are those acts by which a man harms himself or his property.
Crimes are those acts by which one man harms the person or property of another.
Vices are simply the errors which a man makes in his search after his own happiness. Unlike crimes, they imply no malice toward others, and no interference with their persons.
In vices, the very essence of crime – that is, the design to injure the person or property of another – is wanting.
It is a maxim of the law that there can be no crime without a criminal intent; that is, without the intent to invade the person or property of another. But no one ever practises a vice with any such criminal intent. He practices his vice for his own happiness solely, and not from any malice toward others.
Unless this clear distinction between vices and crimes be made and recognized by the laws, there can be on earth no such thing as individual right, liberty, or property, and the corresponding and coequal rights of another man to the control of his own person and property.
For a government to declare a vice to be a crime, and to punish it as such, is an attempt to falsify the very nature of things. It is as absurd as it would be to declare truth to be falsehood, or falsehood truth.
Feb
11
We all doomed come September. Enjoy this summer as it were your last.
http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn16567-large-hadron-collider-to-restart-in-september.html
Feb
11
Snapshot: City
snapshot of the city:
it’s late. maybe around 2 or 3 in the morning. the august heat had settled into a light haze hovering just so above the pavement. just so as to catch and magnify the orange of the sodium lights. just so as to make a warm glow all over.
i am just off the bridge. brazenly riding my bike in the middle of the deserted, narrow streets. i am completely enjoying the freedom of the hour and the slight chill of my sweat mixing with the amber moisture in the air. my hair being slightly lifted and tossed with my movement.
turning down eldridge street, edging into chinatown, i hear a high bell. a sweet ringing out. one. two. three. i can’t place where the sound is coming from. then, there it is again. like a call from the sea. it’s lonely so late at night, looking for company. i slow down and there it is! the source. a store front a blaze in golden and red lights, a solitary monk. his insence buring, perfuming the heavy air. his bell chiming calling for lost souls.
i slept easy that night.
