Email Address

Subject

Criminal History

Mother's maiden name

Food Allergies

Primary purpose of your trip to Belgium

Have you been in close proximity to livestock?

Could it be claimed that your actions are dictated by a useless and costly hypothesis?

In your view, is it better to be the oppressor or the oppressed?

Are you disingenuously propounding an aesthetic morality?

Can you decide a priori what should be done?

Do you consider your contempt for mankind as dangerous or merely convenient?

Would you preside over the mass starvation of your people in exchange for immortality?

Have you reached the point where your conceptual and biographical explanations have begun to merge?

Are you the author of your own thoughts; that is to say, are you the exact locus of your own agency? Or do you conclude that that agency is just an illusion and your thoughts and actions have been pre-ordained (not by a Divine ruler) but by random subatomic particles gurgling deep within your biology thereby recusing you from ultimate responsibility?

You are unhappy. That much is certain. Yet, would you be willing to trade places with the pampered dog of a billionaire, living an existence of pure indolence and luxury (i.e., flying on Lear jets, lodging at the George V in Paris, having your belly scratched by the fingernails of a Countess whilst lazing aboard a yacht in the Aegean) but with the clear understanding that your particular breed of canine only has a life span of 8 years and is prone to hip dysplasia amongst other idiopathic maladies?

In 5000 words or less, please explain your understanding of the Monadic root; specifically, do you concur with Pythagoras's theory about the harmony of all numbers and their intrinsic relationship to the Absolute? Please type this answer with your left thumb (except when deploying subjunctive verb forms; in which, case use your right ring finger). Extra credit will be granted those able to prove that the endless gradations of perceptive and apperceptive reality are but mere epistemological bagatelles concerning sensory experience and its correlations to the physical world. "Apparently" there's a cricket in your garage. Every time you enter this domain to evict the cricket, it falls silent. But the moment you leave, the creature starts up again. It’s uncanny, this phantom cricket. But of course there remains a distinct possibility that this cricket you think is a cricket is actually a croaking frog. What does one really know of crickets? In truth, one knows even less of frogs. Very well then. Consider another example. With a #2 pencil, begin by sketching the outline of a goat. Next, with crayons, color in the goat and upload your picture to the Cloud. Then, take a short break, maybe boil some tea or walk around the block. When you return, check to see if the goat is still in the Cloud or if it’s in your den chewing a hole in the carpet which the goat believes to be grass but is actually just tufts of wooly fibers such as polypropylene, nylon and polyester. Who is on more solid, metaphysical footing: you who trusts that the goat is in the Cloud; or the goat who believes in its bones that the carpet is grass? Nothing is what it seems. I am not me. You are not you. We are not us. There is no now. There may be a flesh-and-blood goat in the Cloud and a crayonic goat in your den. Both exiting in simultaneity. You tell me. I’m asking the questions here.

Please compose a contrapuntal fugue for the pipe organ in D minor. Submit the finished track on TEAC A-2300S reel-to-reel tape via UPS. Mail or fax the sheet music.

You've made it this far. Good. Very good. Now it's time for the complete obliteration of your ego. First, you must accept. Second, you must no longer resist. Third, you must surrender. Fourth, you must forgive. Fifth, you must be present in this moment. Not that one or the next. But this one. Understand? Good. Very good. Let us then celebrate the death of your ego. It is a happy time. Not a sad one. You are eternally wedded to the universe. To everything and everyone. Your consciousness has been severed from your senses. Congratulations.

ERIC EASON

APPLICATION FOR HUMAN CONTACT