How the Fuck Does Fuckin Shit Work?

by Sir Kn8

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about

A history of the philosophy of western science.
VIDEO: www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVorPufDPLg

lyrics

Do you ever find yourself wondering how the fuck fuckin shit works?
Like all the shit in the whole fuckin universe, how does it work?
Now it’s clear that there’s a buncha fuckin shit going on —
A buncha fuckin shit is on fire, a bunch of other shit is underwater, there’s a buncha fuckin shit going down and a bunch of it is fucked up as shit
And the quesiton of what the fuck to do about that shit is deeply related to the question of how the fuck it works in the first place
It’s a topic of significant debate and complex historical development
Because if you do sometimes ask what the fuck to do about shit
And if that question leads you to the greater question of the origin of all fuckin shit ever and what its ultimate essence and purpose is, you wouldn't be the first to ask.

People have been wondering how the fuck shit works
Since before there was fuck, shit or any other words,
Stumbling o’er the earth trying to give names to objects 
And find a latent order in the sprawling chaoticness.
— Oh shit! it’s fire! It’s bright at night, look! 
Don’t know where it came from, but now I can cook —
It’s from a higher power: I’ma write that in a book — 
I’ma praise it for millennia — that’s how long it took 
Until it occurred to me that the person that I’m worshipping
Can’t account for all the phenomena I’m observing quite perfectly.
And I gazed at my fire, and whatever I was frying up, 
And thought perhaps its flame was made of elemental fire-stuff, 
And water’s made of water-stuff, and earth is made of earth-stuff, 
And air is made of air, and I and all I’ve ever heard of 
Are made from these too, being just some conglomerates
Of parts in wholes, particles of a buncha other smaller shit.
— But how small’s it get? Are things infinitely divisible? 
And are big and small balanced by some kind of invisible
Power, or is it random and at bottom inert?
In short, how the fuck does fuckin’ shit work? 

It was heard in the cave, and the hut and the yurt:
How the fuck does fuckin’ shit work? 

Plato thought the universe was a living organism,
A unitary animal with spirit, form and vision —  
He got it from Pythagoras, who got it from Egyptians, 
Who got it from a mashup of observations and religions 
That sprawl into the vastness of history’s distance. 
And if it seems to be just an idiotic inference, it isn’t:
All I know is life; it is my principal condition —
Life is all I am, and from It I am arisen. 
So why would I assume that other shit within the system
At which I look and listen isn’t in the same position? 
I grow, trees grow, our forms are rearranged —
Winds and oceans blow and flow as if with conscientious change.
There’s nothing that I know that doesn’t sometimes do it:
All is soul and life, for all is rife with movement. 
It’s a beautiful construction — it hits you like a bullet. 
But just because it’s beautiful doesn’t mean it isn’t bullshit.

Saying there’s an Giant Fucking Spirit spirit that pervades stuff
Doesn’t help explain how anything happens the way it does.
Like if you want a tree’s help, you don’t have to ask it 
You can turn it into firewood if you have a good hatchet.
And knowing how to hack it, is what we call common sense, 
Which is ultimately a knowledge of physical processes 
With no real regard to their “life” or your conscience, 
Or why you’re both here, or where the hell God is. 
And when the question of how-it-works takes precedence over why-it-is 
One locates the basis of the modern physical sciences, 
Which describes how things are, and not what they mean, 
And sees the parts of this world as the parts of a machine. 
Nothing good about it, also nothing evil —
Nothing very meaningful about people or free will —
Not to say most materialist amoralists are jerks;
They’re not. But I’m not sure how the fuck that works.

Is it all a big soul or a buncha frickin’ dirt?:
How the the fuck does fuckin’ shit work?

Newton supposed that a god that’s all knowing
Conceived the world-machine and then set the ball rolling,
Such that anyone who knows all relevant conditions
In a physical system could make accurate predictions
Of all possible events. And so even without god,
Knowing what the fuck’s what is an approachable job —
Stats, pasts and futures — and there’s nothing actually mystic
In this universe, that’s absolutely deterministic.
But further observation of really really tiny stuff
Suggested that conception still wasn’t quite fine enough:
For subatomic particles whose masses are mad small
Don’t behave in accordance with common sense facts at all —
And we can make guesses about how they’ll act later,
But they seem to express a lot of random behavior — 
And if the parts that comprise things just kind of do whatever,
Then what the fuck holds all the larger stuff together?
And what makes them gather just so in their random fall?
Is there some supernatural shit happening after all?

Quantum systematic uncertainty? Word?:
How the the fuck does fuckin’ shit work?

Now all we have is intellectual unrest,
The inevitable result of knowing dick bupkis — 
Wondering not just what, but even if stuff is,
And when we hear an answer fearing to trust it.
And we’re back once more to our ancestral condition
With much less faith and less fucks given,
Whether anyone can answer the old inquisition
Of what-the-fuck’s-happening and is-anyone-listening.

And next to the question what the nature of matter is,
Is the question of just what’s at stake when we’re asking it: 
Is universe for our use, or are we its tools?
The answers are opaque the askers are fools.
Is Earth other than us, self-balancing steadily,
Or is she our mother and we’re fucking her Oedipally?
And is it just in reference to us that she’s precious? 
Which comes first, the physics or the ethics?  

I hope you didn’t think I’d tell you what the answer is —
I’ll probly forget I was asking it after this. 
Fact is, I’m alive. I live on Earth 
I’ma figure out a way to make this fucking shit work.

credits

released March 14, 2019

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Sir Kn8 Brooklyn, New York

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The "k" is silent. Like in "Knight". The numeral 8 makes an "ate" sound.

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