Michal's naked lady calendars are meant to promote feminism - is he being earnest?

Posted:⚖ 15༛♐²⁶/₂₄♀

There was a time in my life called childhood when I never cared for what day it was. It made no difference to me. When I grew up, it seemed like a became a prisoner of time. I wanted to change that. I wanted to go back to a time when all my days weren't numbered. So I gave myself that day. I liberated myself from the calendar and you can do it too.

When I say the word art, a lot of people probably think of paintings and sculptures. These are common art forms, but they're not the most basic. One of the most basic forms of art is the calendar.

Consider the fact that Julius Caesar gave the Roman year an average of exactly 365.25 days, by creating an extra day every four years. This is great because it's very close to the sidereal year, the time it takes the Earth to revolve around the sun as measured against the fixed stars. The problem with the number 365 is that it isn't exactly divisible by the number seven. You end up with an extra day every year that keeps shifting the start of each successive calendar year to a new day of the week.

I use a calendar that solves this problem by simply taking that extra day and doing something special with it. Instead of giving it a number and assigning it to a day of the week, I call it World Peace Day. This way, my calendar always starts the year on a Sunday. I like doing this because not only does it bring order and consistency to my calendar, it brings focus to the idea that world peace is truly indispensable. In my calendar, there's no other way to name this day.

If the world adopted such a method for its official civil calendar, I think it would go a long way to making the idea of world peace unavoidable. I do the same thing with my leap day. I call it Love Your Neighbor Day. Because I can't call it anything else - it's not a Monday or a Friday - I'm reminded of the importance of the greatest commandment. It's so great that there's a day in my calendar named after it that I can't describe in any other way. I can't ignore the idea of loving my neighbor. It's built into my calendar.

You may not be prepared to adopt a different calendar as long as everybody around you is still using the one Pope Gregory reformed back in the 16th century. That's okay.

I'm offering you free calendar wallpaper so you can think about how important the calendar is as an art-form, not just as a way of counting the days but as a way of organizing our culture and giving our society a direction.

If you think society is heading in the wrong direction and needs a little help, you can try to celebrate Love Your Neighbor Day as I have done - by placing it between Saturday and Sunday - and seeing how you feel. You might feel power and freedom from having broken the cycle of Monday to Friday, Saturday, Sunday. I did. It empowered me and gave me a sense of peace that continues to fuel me to this day. Maybe it can fuel you too.

Pointer — Margo's HD Monthly Desktop Calendar, A.D. 2013
high-definition digital wallpaper
You can use a simple image processing program like Microsoft Paint or something free and useful like Irfanview to add dates to your schedule.
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December
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Download this monthly desktop calendar for December 2013 with a black background

Previous Month — Margo's HD Monthly Desktop Calendar, A.D. 2013
high-definition digital wallpaper
You can use a simple image processing program like Microsoft Paint or something free and useful like Irfanview to add dates to your schedule.
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December
white
yellow
pink
blue
black
Download this monthly desktop calendar for December 2013 with a black background

Samples of Fiction from Michal's Corpus

Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.

If you're wondering...

How do I use this?

Just click on a title to see examples of "fiction" from a particular work. You'll stay on the same spot on the page, only the Table of Contents will disappear. To get back to the Table of Contents just click next to the image of the Bare Bottom imprint where it says "Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents."“And...?”

In the case of common words, a Table of Frequency and a Table of Collocation provide numerical information about how many times a word appears in its original or modified form and with which words. It can help to give you an idea of how common words are used and in what contexts. Find them in the "Common Words of English" part of the Education section.“Ok.”

Why a Fiction Corpus?

The popular understanding of the word "fiction" and its complement "non-fiction" is a reflection of the cultural influence of a classification system. The Dewey Decimal System is responsible for separating "fiction" from all other work and categorizing it by author's name. This has influenced the popular idea of fiction as a narrative that tends to be "untrue" and the product of an individual's fantasy, a bias compounded by modern art's century-long obsession with abstraction, surrealism and self-expression.“So...?”

My idea of fiction rests on the idea that art doesn't have to be factual to be a true reflection of our existence. Adam and Eve didn't have to exist as two individuals 700 generations ago for them to be true portraits of two human beings trying to work together.“And...?”

The Bible is a Fiction Corpus. It is a body of writing that isn't overly concerned with facts and yet its words carry weight. It was written by many different authors living in different places with different audiences in mind, yet everyone gleans something from it.“Right...”

In preparing my fiction corpus, I have striven to see the world through the eyes of others. Through the eyes of my Adams and Eves I hope that you too will glean some truth about our existence. At the very least you will learn some more about how one man can use the English language.“Ok.”

Who are you, Michal?

I'm just a guy who makes art. And if you're interested in making a solid investment in an aesthetic that supports our present and future welfare, then I will help you look for something that you can buy.“How...?”

Everybody makes. Everybody sells. Some people know how to protect their interests. Some better than others. Few people know how to listen. Listening to somebody means considering their interests as if they were your own. Going out and doing something to satisfy another person's interest is how we build a strong economy. Without a strong economy, democracy collapses.“And...?”

Buying 4Occupy is buying for democracy. Don't give your money to somebody who's ruining it. There's no such thing as cheap democracy, quick democracy, or easy democracy. There's good, solid, complete democracy and the tyranny of feudalism. Let's not mix the two. Let's not buy everything on the cheap. Let's not create another tyrant and enslave ourselves because it was easier not to think about what we were doing. Let's protect our interests. Let's listen.“Ok.”

Who's really behind this site?

Have you ever been to one of those post-it-yourself retail websites where there's a really attractive top-seller ready to give you tips on how you can be a top-seller too?“Uh...”

Have you ever been to a "job" interview where you sit in a line, walk through one door, get hired as a contractor and walk out another door, so that the other applicants don't realize that everyone's getting "hired" to work in the same market?“Maybe...”

The internet is full of people who are ready to exploit your ignorance. They are people who want to make money at the expense of our economy. They are cheats.“And...?”

I, Michal, am behind this site. Not some fat plutocrat exploiting my image. I like to do things the right way. I like to work with people who take the time to do things right.“Why...?”

I used to work for a company that didn't do things the right way. My labor was exploited because of mismanagement. That company was the United States Postal Service, an independent agency of the United States Government that is ultimately controlled by Congress. I'm mad because if the Federal Government can exploit labor, who is going to stop every other cheat from doing it?“Labor Unions...?”

Don't say labor unions. I went to my labor union and they did nothing. They ignored me because labor unions aren't democracies. Holding a free and fair election for a "representative" once in a blue moon does not equal people ruling. Democracy means open government. It means we the public need to accept the hard work. It's the only way to secure liberty and equality.“Ok.”

What's the difference between use and usage?

Definition-wise, not much. But the -age suffix is ultimately French in origin and with most things French, at least in American eyes, the immediate thought is that of something precious and arcane whose value should be judged very carefully. This is in contrast to the word France, which is associated with a beautiful place. Thus people in France or from France are beautiful, warm, kind people. Generous even. Unlike French people who suck. Unless you're frenching, in which case you're only sometimes sucking.“And...?”

Along those lines, usage means you're in bed. Use means you're just heavy petting. Also notice that common people, like common words, get used...whereas "proper" things make "appearances." Whether or not you are being exploited is a different story. Exploitation is what happens when somebody uses you or your property without listening to you. Listening is what happens when you consider another person's needs as if they were your own. You don't have to satisfy those needs. All you need to do is consider them. So many of us can't even do that.“So...?”

Help stop exploitation. Buy 4occupy. Buy a better world. Whether or not you feel you can afford to buy art, consider joining my protest. I want to guarantee every working man and every working mother on this planet a 15-day universal holiday. But I can't. Only we can do that. We have to work together. We have to accept the idea that everyone deserves time for himself and we need to build that time into a new kind of calendar. We have to give peace it's own day. We have to make love something you can't avoid. We have to make even the most miserly cold-hearted capitalist among us say that he cashed his check on Love Your Neighbor Day. There won't be any other way to say it once the Acceptance Calendar is widely adopted.“Ok.”

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Death to McDonalds

An aerial view of Dodger Stadium in the foreground, with an imaginary partially submerged Los Angeles behind — A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.

Frame #73

damn this character limit. the stupid thing keeps cutting me off.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

26 July, 12:44 PM

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from The Gospel of Jesus H.

A picture of the planet Mars — An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.

Twenty years! How quickly they have passed! I thought your grandfather would die before me. I thought I might have a chance to do something. But whom am I kidding? His generals would've killed me as soon as your grandfather were dead. I am hated. I am the most hated man on Mars. I am the Lonely Planet. I killed your father! I killed your mother and Your brother!

– Verse 16 from the chapter called Invocation

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Samples of Fiction from Sex for Children

A drawing of a man between a woman's legs in front of another man in a hospital bed — A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.

Indiana's piano, in my memory, seems like a gigantic whale, grinning at me with its black and white teeth. The fireplace looks like a massive cavern, with a gigantic wooden pylon marking its entrance, gigantic chain-mail curtains framing the ashen path. Outside the drawing room, the foyer is like a universe. The chandelier is like a sun. The main stairs: they are a path to heaven: a broad and dangerous path: its steps are gigantic steps; one must leap onto the next one with all one's strength, only to falter back to one's death. But Indiana gracefully coming down the stairs: she is a goddess. She is a radiant beauty. She puts the chandelier to shame. She lights up the universe. The whale sings out her beauty. The caverns are emptied of shadow. The walls tremble. The portraits in the hall are shaken; the tapestries flap. Far away, the kitchen burns, and the dumb waiter speaks delicacies. That is her house in my memory. That is she who now haunts this quiet room with her absence.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 4, Self-image, Paragraph 2

The events of the past few days were already incomprehensible when I had to live them. Now that they are part of my memory, they are made even more incomprehensible. Now that I know that all this time Albert was suffering from this inoperable recurrence of cancer, my recent memory has transmuted itself into a massive object of strange and irregular proportions.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 4, Self-image, Paragraph 1, Clauses 1-3

Then he put it back on the plate. This time he ignored the crumbs on his mouth. Holding the newspaper with his left hand, he placed his right elbow on the armrest, brought his hand to his nose, pushed up his falling glasses, and leaned back in his chair. Then he started reading again; I thought to myself, "What an old man: Nike looks just like an old man. If he were wrinkly and gray - except for those minor differences, he would look exactly the same. He would do the exact same things - in fact, he will do the same things. He will be Nike many years from now. He will be older and he will not look as young, but he will still be Nike.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 1, Cancer, Paragraph 5, Clauses 8-16

Nike will find, I'm afraid, that someday he'll be shocked by happiness; he will discover that most precious gem, that perfect construction of existence, hiding behind the curtains of the window or peeking out from under the radiator, on the top shelf in the walk-in closet, in the basement, under the boxes of not-to-be-thrown-away garbage, or shrouded behind cobwebs, next to the boiler.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 1, Cancer, Paragraph 1, Clause 1

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Tsiga Tsiga Tsiga

Bullets whizzing by a statue of Nikola Tesla — A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.

"It depicts," said the other, "beautiful young ladies in chairs such as this."

"Conveyed by their loyal servants," added the first.

"It is our master's wish," continued the other, "to prevent the Puglian soil-"

"Blood-stained as it is," interrupted the first.

– from “Italy Sucks and Has Sucked For A Long Time,” an adventure story featuring a man who had to learn the hard way

"The Honorable Carmina Burana," the other man hastened to add.

"I've never seen a chair like this," said Ferrari. "It looks like a box with windows."

"The Baron asks us to carry her Ladyship to and from the Bishop's palace in this chair."

"As you can see," said the other man, "there are two poles for us to hold it. One of them has broken."

– from “Italy Sucks and Has Sucked For A Long Time,” an adventure story featuring a guy who gets a bad example from the world

"Her half-Mongolian Highness," Manfredo would correct him.

"Her half-Mongolian Christian Highness!"

"Long live the Pope!" This would make everybody spit his drink.

"Which one?" asked Manfredo.

"Benedetto," somebody dared to whisper.

– from “Italy Sucks and Has Sucked For A Long Time,” an adventure story featuring anal sex

It's hard to say whether Ferrari loved his mother. She died of plague when he was young. Often he would try to remember what she was like by cuddling next to a pillow and pretending it was her. He grew out of that. Like many children who have lost parents, the energy that would have gone into pleasing his mother was devoted to a general resentment of other people, which he hid, and a feeling of entitlement, which manifested itself more obviously.

– from “Italy Sucks and Has Sucked For A Long Time,” an adventure story featuring a flautist

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Samples of Fiction from Sorry Ms. Jackson

Chiseled letters from an ancient stone tablet hanging on a wall — A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.

(ALICE and FLETCHER exit. LESBIAN and MS. JACKSON enter with their tea.)

MS. JACKSON: Tell me more about Egypt. You were saying something about locusts.

LESBIAN: When I arrived in November the country was under attack. Locusts were everywhere: in the north, in the south, in the east, in the west. Farmers who couldn't afford pesticides were burning tires to survive. It just so happened I arrived in Cairo at the exact moment that the swarm was passing through on its way to the Red Sea.

MS. JACKSON: Where did they come from?

LESBIAN: West Africa. They crossed the Sahara to get there. They were very hungry. They would fall onto your plate and get stuck in your glass. By the time I got to Aswan, the regional governor offered a two hundred Egyptian pound reward for any information leading to the destruction of a swarm.

MS. JACKSON: Did you find one?

LESBIAN: No.

MS. JACKSON: Does that sort of thing happen often? A swarm of locusts sounds so biblical.

LESBIAN: The very next year I took a trip to Hawai'i. They were suffering from a gall wasp invasion.

MS. JACKSON: What's a gall wasp?

– ACT I, lines 496-504

(LESBIAN tries to comfort MS. JACKSON.)

MS. JACKSON: Don't touch me! Oh, my God: I'm sorry, Homo. Please forgive me. I'm beside myself.

LESBIAN: What can I do?

MS. JACKSON: There's nothing you can do. I married a miscreant; I gave birth to a rogue; I brought a Jezebel into my employment!

LESBIAN: Calm down.

MS. JACKSON: How can I be calm when my family is having an orgy in my kitchen?

LESBIAN: I'll put a stop to this.

MS. JACKSON: Homo, I'm ruined. I'm finished. I'll never be respected again.

LESBIAN: Not if I have anything to do with it.

MS. JACKSON: What are you going to do?

– ACT I, lines 1027-1035

(LESBIAN exits.)

LUKE: Speakin' of leaving, I'd just like to say that it's been a pleasure staying here with you all. As much as I'd like to stay longer - ingestin' your wonderful fish, Kokomo, and imbibin' your wonderful grog, Master Grey Goose, et cet'ra, et cet'ra - as me manager would say, duty calls. Mistress Jackson, Fletch, Grey Goose, Kokomo: it's been real nice. Nevertheless, me and the Mrs. have to be going. I'll leave you the check on me way out - right after I pack me bags.

– ACT II, lines 366-366

GREY GOOSE: Open your eyes. Do you know what I was trying to do here? Look at this place. It's a god-damn mess.

FLETCHER: You were only trying to help.

GREY GOOSE: I wasn't. I was trying to please Kokomo. That dishwasher wasn't a gift for your mother. It was a gift for her.

FLETCHER: Don't expect me to believe Mother's story that all this time you've been chasing after the cook.

GREY GOOSE: Things changed the moment your mother convinced herself that she's falling in love with that Kiwi.

FLETCHER: Lesbian is not going to stay here. I doubt Mother would just pack up and leave. All we have to do is be patient. We have to ride this thing out without losing our heads and without letting anybody catch the two of them going at it - whatever the hell it is they do together, which can't be much. They probably just kiss and talk about running off to get married in Spain. Regardless, we can't afford to take any chances - not with our reputation as low as it is.

GREY GOOSE: I argued with her today - not because it was necessary - because I desired it. I shouted what I should never murmur without her permission.

FLETCHER: What are you talking about?

GREY GOOSE: I called her a whore - not because I was roping Luke -because she turned me on. It made me angry to feel so helpless. I argued with Kokomo so that I could be close to her: so that I could breathe in her scent. That's all this stupid dishwasher business was about. Did I say it was a gift? It wasn't a gift. It was a ploy.

FLETCHER: Stay away from her.

– ACT I, lines 1237-1246

(GREY GOOSE enters unseen.)

MS. JACKSON: I'm afraid you haven't seen it all.

ALICE: Whatever has happened, I'm sure we'll be better for it.

GREY GOOSE: What's wrong with her? Is she sick?

MS. JACKSON: Get out.

GREY GOOSE: Calm down.

MS. JACKSON: I'll call the police.

ALICE: It's alright.

GREY GOOSE: You've lost your mind, woman.

MS. JACKSON: Where's Lesbian? What have you done?

– ACT I, lines 1082-1090

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Miscellaneous Dingbats

The title of the book at the end of a string of miscellaneous dingbats — A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.

The orbits of Captain Orbitz as told and retold by trillions of Orion systemizens, indeed systemizens from across many a galaxy, never fluctuated from their purpose of helping Captain Tycho "Tych" Orbitz conquer his home galaxy. Tych was firm from the day he resigned his commision as a courier in the Star Alliance to the day he vanished into space. Many were afraid he would come back. Many more hoped he would. They thought he was out pirating somewhere with Lalunia, his pheromonically irresistible great-great-great-great-niece, or ruling a planet with the beautifully blue Sara Lee, or fighting the jilted queen of the Astrazeneca or playing chess with CAROline the computer that loved him. They didn't know he was dead. They had no idea he had died long before he had even resigned his commission. Before he hijacked the tesseract marking the beginning of his rebellion or piloted the stolen ship Nautilus into the singularity the man had physically removed his own dead body from the bridge. He had no choice. At the time the ship was scheduled to be inspected by Star Alliance sanitation officers.

– from “The Death and Life of Captain Orbitz,” a science fiction romance in the spirit of Stanislaw Lem, if you know who that is