#caveman thoughts

[wannawrite999]

[chesicaek]

ug. look. *points at cave painting.* this will be deer graphics in 2013.

[higadoyrinon]

FangGuu

[scribbliff]

Not Feeling the War Drums

I can estimate with absolute confidence that, in the neolithic era there was that one caveman that would lean close to his cave brother and say: “I don’t know, Dreg, I’m just not feeling the war drums. They’re just not doing it for me.”

And that selfsame tribalism exists these days when it comes to musical opinion. I admit that even I, a self-proclaimed musical vizier and devoted enjoyer of a myriad of different genres, had a stage in my life where I limited my musical interests to an incredibly narrow slice of the musical pie. Like any pre-adolescent metalhead, if it didn’t make you angry or make your ears hurt, it didn’t have any worth. It was obviously a hypocritical stance, something I can see with a clarity afforded by over a decade of hindsight - the notion that just because a specific track or genre doesn’t make you feel anything, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t spark that same soulful reaction in other people.

And the truth is, the musical openness time and speculation alike have granted me has become something of an incredible gift, one I’m certain many others are blessed to indulge in as well - I know a few because, well, I have a lot of friends with which I trade music, and though sometimes there are the occasional duds, they all get an even shot. I can no longer number the amount of times I’ve listened to a song in its entirety because a friend recommended it to me, even if it was speedcore (Sorry Chris) or chiptune (Sorry again, Chris), both genres I usually struggle with terribly. But again, certain songs have managed to break through that initial revulsion, so do I truly struggle with them, in fact?

The nearest point of comparison is, of course, with food. You could show Dreg the caveman a lovely red pepper couscous, but he’d know two bites in if compared in any way, shape or form to the massive brontosaurus rib he had perched comically on the edge of his crude and comically insufficient stone bowl. But when it comes to music, even when I sit in the ragged moccasins of Dreg the caveman, I still finish the entire plate of couscous, the entirety of the song offered, because well... You're not really giving it an honest try otherwise, are you?

Altogether, and now that the impetus of my thought process has diminished, I’ve realised something quite tragic: there wasn’t really a point to all this, no hypothesis I was trying to prove, no hopeful call to action to crest off this contemplative word salad. Maybe I was trying to explain my reverence for a song shared by a friend, and the honest try each and every potential gift deserves?

Or, perhaps that we should approach every new piece of music as though it were a massive brontosaurus rib, even if it looks more like red pepper couscous would to the caveman inside.

As an added note, I quite like red pepper couscous. I hope that doesn't damage the foundation of the analogy.

Whatever. I’ll try again next week.

[stansthemanwiththeplan]

.

[grunk-reacts]

The horrors not beyond Grunk comprehension

[beet1031]

listen man, if this were caveman times everyone would love my audhd, I literally have so many traits that would go so hard in a Paleolithic tribe:

Practically nocturnal sleep schedule- when left unattended my sleep schedule reverts to going to sleep at 5am and waking up at 3pm. I would’ve been that g that stays up all night and guards the camp

For some reason whenever my family goes apple picking or w/e monkey brain activates and I get the urge to literally climb the trees and get every single fruit possible, y’all just know I’d be an amazing gatherer

my special interest in linguistics means I’d probably just spend all day coming up with new words for shit, which back then would’ve been useful since they still needed new words

anyway all this is to say if I had a Time Machine I’d go back to caveman times and put my top notch skills to good use

[wayfinder-wolf]

More Kyrii adventures, from my massively modded Minecraft world.

Dude got jumped by a nearly invisible monster in his own cave. The Born in Chaos mod is no joke, folks.

Kyrii loves going to his nearby village every morning, and attempting to seduce his love interest. It never works. Maybe someday, he'll learn manners, though I doubt that.

[ketchuplaser]

Me: I need something to drive this nail.

My monkey brain: Hammah.

[cl0setedcannib4l]

i want to post more about my thoughts but my mind is honestly empty

[orpheusterminals]

Cavemanrobot and Stan Sakai by Iason Ragnar Bellerophon Via Flickr: Caveman Robot at Comic Con 2005!

[killer-beans]

grunk fucdk in the woods

[came-saw-got-lost]

[forgottenthreads]

Idea, The Mammoth hunt theory of sportsball:

Men like sports for the same reason men would go hunting megafauna, taking part in the ritual even if only as a spectator is supposed to show your prowess. They would go out and take part in the thrill of the hunt and come back home with all the energy, tales of victory or valiant loss, and hopefully something to show just how well they did and just how much they helped and this would with luck get their mate into bed. With Mammoth hunting it was the pound of flesh but with sportsball its the score.

The woman is not expected to understand the game but to understand that the man at least won in his endeavour, he came home with the story even if others in the tribe were defeated or hurt or killed.

Most team sports is some variation of get the ball (projectile) into a goal (target) with maximum skill, and avoid breaking the rules because that's the equivalent of getting stomped on by the mammoth. The points indicate how good their team (tribe) is against the 'mammoth' but it is safer to forgo the dangerous task of real mammoth hunting and instead prove themselves self against competing tribes directly.

Several sports balls have the 'do this one thing and you win/lose' is derived from the mammoth hunt, doesn't matter how many spears you land in a mammoth's leg if you can hit it's heart or brain your team wins. Similarly doesn't matter how good the rest of the hunt goes if you deliberately crawl under a mammoth foot you're gonna be crushed.

Many games are direct descendants of other hunt, football (association and gridiron) for example traces its routes to medieval England and chasing a live pig through the streets of a village before a feast. Many similar games can be framed as trapping prey in addition to the mammoth hunting idea.

Other games like baseball can be framed as defending yourself from counter attack the ball (trunk) comes towards you and your job is to bat it away hard enough to get to a safe zone or run around the mammoth for another angle of attack.

Solo and one vs one ball sports can be framed too as man vs animal, pool or snooker might be spearing practice (like fishing), croquet or golf or bowling are variations on sling practice Hitting various small targets (animals) from a distance to knock them out.

And so pretty much all spectator ball sports are the same thing. Get a ball in a hole earn points, claim "we won" and with luck get laid as a result of the excitement of the retelling.

Having a favourite version of the rules of sports ball is just because you think that version is more skilled or harder or something else that makes the telling of the story better, it's not because it actually matters.

But hey! That's just a theory, that's a game theory!

[stansthemanwiththeplan]

Constant pain but you have to keep going.

[robertalpascal]

no you don't understand, permanent markers in my hand are a ticking bomb. i will label the shit out of everything in sight and i will suddenly become a caveman who draws stick figures on wall