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To this very day I'm still stunned how quickly people landed on the belief that our mind uploads aren't us once we had them. Prior to neural digitization being a reality people would tie themselves in knots over the question. There was this notion that it would be easier to scan dead, frozen brains. It was a very convenient idea who's biggest flaw is it's falsity. Get in an MRI and one of you is in cyber space. Meat you is outside to greet them. No questions, it's a copy. That made the sheer mania of mirroring all of the more inexplicable. Seventy eight percent, from the day of the first mirror, seventy eight percent were "saved" to the cloud. I know people now see that number and all they can feel is disgust at our not

I will preface this post by saying that this is a personal, subjective reflection of my faith. This is not intended to be academic or dispassionate. I am sharing my private feelings and thoughts.

why I have a home altar

I have a home altar in my bedroom. It sits next to my door. On my altar sits an athame, candles, a rosary, a cast-iron crucifix, a diffuser with frankincense, a crucifixion nail, all carefully nestled around the central object: a framed picture of Jesus,

Informal substitue for anyway, however, or anyhow. This adverb is a transitional word that signals to one's audience that one is getting back on track after chasing rabbits, returning to the main point being made or as a conversational filler when one is about to change subjects. Also spelled anyhoo.

Example quotes:

"'Anywho, I have shit to fuck up, a world to set on fire, and payback that can’t wait much longer,' I laughed as I leaned over, kissing