Excerpts from book - Most People Talk Bullshit

Latest news - "Believe in what you can do and then act upon it, instead of whining about what you can not do!------ Vinny

------ Vincent D. Faini's soon to be released books: ZEN & THE ART OF RESISTANCE TRAINING - A Scientific & Yogic Approach To Weightlifting; MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT - One Primates Search For Intelligent Life; ADVENTURES IN MARINE BIOLOGY - LONG AWAITED BOOKS PREMIERNING SOON!!

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Below you can use this audio device to listen to the interview with the person that you see shown in the picture above.	CLICK ON THE VIDEO CLIP BELOW!

Below you can use this audio device to

listen to the interview with the person

that you see shown in the picture above.

CLICK ON THE VIDEO CLIP BELOW!

EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK:

MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT - One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life

CHAPTER ONE

Fade back to Birth

40°07′12″N 75°20′30″W

What is my destiny?

I came into the world with such promise and hope.

I came into the world after being carried by my mother for six and a half months, weighing in at a meager five pounds. In actuality, I was the U.S.S Starship Vincent Lazarus Chimera, carbon- based vessel of basic primate design, simultaneously blessed and cursed with a tribunal bio-computer commonly known by most Homo sapiens as a brain.

The U.S.S. Vincent Lazarus Chimera was designed from a merging of selfish DNA, the direct result of a willing union between the U.S.S. Vincenzo and U.S.S Faye.

More accurately, large numbers of my father’s DNA jumped ship by the hundreds of millions… the sperm, rushing forward like a phalanx of PT boats toward her ambassador egg. They were compelled by the siren song of her DNA, and each one of the millions had the clear intention of individual victory, to give their all towards the flowering of a life unfettered.

Trial runs began for the U.S.S. Faye two years prior, in preparation for this merger. Their design called for the dropping of one ambassador egg per month. The merger would occur at the end of this two-year period when the very best egg was finally dropped.

I was subsequently produced.

In anticipation of this day, the multitude of sperm created a boiling furor in my father’s testicles for weeks. The gleeful gathering of these DNA emissaries, waiting restlessly at the gates, resembled thoroughbred horses at The Kentucky Derby.

The resultant combination of overcrowding and excitement created a pressure-cooker atmosphere at the launching berths of my father’s testicles; the slightest accidental stimulation or environmental cue threatened to blow the mission prematurely.

The DNA controlling the U.S.S Vincenzo had been planning this moment since his production, or birth. The millions of sperm within this intrepid battleship shot from the starting line at the seminiferous tubules, zipped down the straight tubules into the rete testis and through the efferent ductules.

From there, they whirled down around the epididymis, looping into the vas deferens and into the final evacuation chute -- the urethra. Optimal levels of lubricant had been added along the way from the cooper’s gland and the prostate.

Yet, casualties were still high in the sperm boats as they rushed on toward the promise land. Millions slowed, lagged, and died. It was an exemplary demonstration of survival of (only) the fittest.

Eventually, the majority of the speeding DNA made it’s way out of the U.S.S Vincenzo. The pre-planned ballistics and trajectory of the free-falling sperm insured the success of their mission. In comparison, their heroic journeys made the arduous trek of a salmon run seem like a walk around the block. It became apparent rather quickly to the third of the frantic sperm, which were bringing up the rear that those in the forefront were clearly carriers of the alpha DNA...the stuff of legends. The second wave of sperm, acknowledging this fact, arranged themselves in brilliant blocking patterns to keep even less worthy DNA from accidentally making it to the frontlines to besiege the walls of the prize egg. This insured that only the best of the best had a chance to breach the walls.

This elite group of sperm, with their precious cargo of DNA still intact, wrestled and pushed against every aspect of the egg's outer hull until, finally, the very best sperm-vehicle breached her protective armor. As the Daley Thompson or Dan O’Brian of the sperm world entered the Sanctum Santorum of the egg, the long awaited merger of DNA from both vessels was complete, all set for the mean streets of life.

Merger completed, the combined DNA from both vessels resulted in the blueprint for me - the U.S.S. Starship Vincent L. Chimera

My mission:

To embark on a continuing exploration of strange new experiences...

To seek out new realities...

To acquire as much information as possible...

To learn ceaselessly for the benefit of the sentient DNA (setting up the underlying operating platform of my original programming.)

To boldly go where many people have gone before -- then to go beyond and do what very few people have done before.

I have been created for basic purposes: to spread my seed, to replicate vessels for my DNA, and to speed up evolution by merging with other vessels. And, perhaps, to develop a sentience that would subsume the original programming of the U.S.S. Starship Vincent Lazarus Chimera (i.e., to attain alpha positioning and then to journey to our creator, the omega point.)

Certain components of my DNA imbued me with the impatience to go out into the cosmos, and to take life by the throat. Instead of waiting nine months, I figured, “What the hell, I don’t need to wait. I can accomplish anything.” Something inside me thought I was ready to captain this vessel. So I ignored normal protocol and I left my mother’s womb prematurely.

I have paid for my hubris. My premature launching into this world had a negative affect on my eyes, almost to the point of legal blindness. Another negative affect from my early arrogance was that my lungs would be sensitive to bronchial infections and breathing difficulties throughout my mission.

So, there I was, as I have already mentioned – a carbon-based vessel with a basic primate design. As my parent vessels looked down on me, I lay in the incubator… My damaged eyes squinting from the bright lights, narrowed by the effort of gathering visual data for my bio-computer to assimilate and process for my masters - my selfish DNA.

I was small, dark, and squiggly… and oddly proportioned, with very chubby cheeks and a rather mole-like appearance. I looked as if a Moroccan fez would have been appropriate for my head.

My parents told me that when my father laid eyes on me for the first time he laughed and cried out, “Holy Christ! Will you just look at the size of his head and his cock! Ah hah hah…he takes after me!” My dad was only referring to his own ample member-- not his skull. “Sweet Jesus, his skull and his cock are the largest part of his body!

They are twice the size of all the other kids’ in this room.”

Since my father’s DNA forced him to be a self-replicating Casanova, he put a premium on such attributes. He was, in essence, a life support system for his penis. His main mission was simply to gather pleasure and to dump as much of his seed as often as possible.

Many people would take issue with this, but it’s not his fault. His DNA, for reasons that are vague to everyone (even him), designed him this way. I guess the U.S.S. Vincenzo figures, “Who am I to question the wisdom of my selfish designers?” At any rate, my father’s perception that I would be endowed with a large member made him proud.

Perhaps he figured this was tantamount to being heavily armed in a dangerous world. I don’t know.

My mother Faye put a premium on intellectual prowess, and she thought that my large skull indicated future mental ability. She therefore had very high expectations of seeing her son develop into another Albert Einstein, Richard Feyman, or Dr. Jonas Salk.

I never lived up to either of their expectations.

As I matured, my body grew to catch up with the size of my prominent, puppy- large skull. Einstein, Feyman, Dr. Salk, and the porn star Ron Jeremy had nothing to worry about. I ended up having, like most adult men, just the typical standard issue intellect and member.

The DNA within my parent vessels had blessed them both with high intelligence and wonderfully attractive exterior hulls over strong and healthy vessels.

For reasons I cannot understand, my DNA designed my vessel with an exterior shell and inner operating system that was painfully average in every manner. I am sure that my parent’s merged DNA had good reason for designing me this way…

However, the reasoning still eludes me and sometimes causes me anguish.

Sometimes I wonder if my DNA did design me to have as great or greater intelligence than both of my parent vessels. Perhaps, because of my early hubris, I ended up with a standard issue intellect. There are many volumes of research that demonstrate abnormalities suffered when human primate vessels are launched too early.

These abnormalities usually affect the eyes, the lungs, and the nervous system. Science has also shown that the more premature the launch, the higher the likelihood of abnormalities and the more severe the abnormalities experienced. In fact, to my great dismay, there is evidence that the earlier a primate vessel is launched, the greater the likelihood for brain damage and decreased intelligence.

A primate vessel initially designed to have a 160 I.Q could, in fact, become damaged in such subtle ways as to disable the bio-computer, causing it to operate at a much lesser level. The diminishment of intelligence rises exponentially in relation to the pre-maturity of the birth.

Perhaps damage incurred at this time is the core reason for many of the unusual perceptual experiences I have had later in life.

I wish I had the patience to wait nine months in the construction dock of my mother’s womb. I guess the old saying, that it takes longer to become the best, holds true.

Yet, aside from the shortcomings of having a painfully average intellect and being a touch cosmetically challenged, my DNA designers did bless the U.S.S. Starship Vincent Lazarus Chimera with some optimal performance features. Not that they are readily apparent, most other primates would not see them if they passed me on the showroom floor.

My lackluster cosmetic exterior does not indicate, “What’s under the hood,” if you will, or what I have deep in the bowels of Engineering.

At puberty, my designers endowed this smaller than average vessel with the ability to perform various functions with greater speed, strength, endurance, and agility than many primate starships whose basic designs seemed to have been constructed for just those purposes.

The U.S.S. Starship Vincent L. Chimera was created for durability… and is an extraordinarily fuel-efficient, multi-purposed, practically all terrain vessel. It is also built for pleasure, and requires far less care and maintenance than most other primate vessels. Despite the average exterior and standard issue attachments, this vessel generally insures that merging with other vessels for the exchanging of DNA will give them a ride they will not soon forget.

Whether my average intellectual capacity is due to intentional design or damage, my designers have seen fit to install operating programs within my bio-computer that seem to have survived my early arrogance. These operating programs seem to be lacking in the majority of other primate vessels that I have encountered during my mission.

Most other primate vessels do not enjoy, as I do, the benefits of the prime directives installed in my hardwiring.

Programs similar to mine are installed in the U.S.S. Starship Robert F. Kennedy, the U.S.S. Starship John F. Kennedy, the U.S.S. Starship George Bernard Shaw, the U.S.S. Starship Teddy Roosevelt, the U.S.S. Starship Phoenix (a friend and fellow seeker), and a few notable others. While these programs make me acknowledge that most primate vessels look at things as they are and ask, “Why?” they, conversely, compel me dream of things that never were, and ask, “Why not?” My installed programs lead me to understand that those who dare to fail miserably can achieve greatly; that is to say, the reasonable primate adapts himself to the world, but the unreasonable primate persists in trying to adapt the cosmos to him. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable primate.

Even my own average intellect is able to understand that if you keep on doing what you’ve been doing, you’re going to keep on getting what you’ve been getting.

But, my DNA has installed an underlying operating platform. Thus, when I unfortunately (yet frequently) encounter illogical behavior, my bio-computer cries out, “Illegal Operation,” or “A Fatal Error has occurred.” My bio-computer then crashes and automatically reboots. It seems to do this much more often than primate vessels that possess better than average superficial operating systems.

My underlying operating platform and peripheral operating systems compel me to go through life trying to attack and solve problems in the same manner as my father’s single successful sperm vessel…by repetitively pushing and bumping my head against obstacles with an almost autistic devotion until the hull has been breached. Perhaps one day the same hardheaded persistence will be the death of me.

I feel blessed but perplexed that my designers would endow me with certain extreme physical blessings… installing remarkable and powerful operating systems, with their concomitant peripheral wetware, without endowing me with the cosmetic beauty, intelligence, or charisma possessed by other special Starship primates. (For example, Kennedy, Roosevelt, Lincoln, Colin Powell, Anthony Robbins, George Bernard Shaw, Gandhi, and Phoenix.) It would make things much easier for me, and far more productive for my journey, as I speed through time and space on the mission that my DNA designers demand.

These demanding designers and God endowed me with such powerful gifts that perhaps my other shortcomings and flaws were purposely installed to insure that I would understand pain and humility. (And boy, have I). Perhaps such a combination serves to forge a novel type of vessel rarely seen in the cosmos.

Perhaps I am just jerking myself off and I am a product of some unfortunate cluster-fuck engineering. That is, the kind of engineering which may allow me to get close to the sun, only to have my wings melt…thus falling and flaming back to earth, towards my own destruction.

Time will tell.

Destiny waits.

I Struggled for Years With My Drives

I spent years struggling with my drives and my Penis…literally, as well as figuratively.

And because of this… after much thought, I decided to do what I had originally sworn I wouldn’t do in this book, (i.e., that I was not going to discuss issues dealing with sex or sexual endowment, especially my own). However, after cogitating furiously over the matter, I realized that, as human primates, sex and both our necessary and unnecessary obsessions with sex have a lot to do with what is good in the world and what is horribly wrong.

It has been said that more murder, thievery, and evil have been done by men with the purpose of keeping a wife and raising children (for a socially acceptable primary purpose of having sex), than has been perpetrated by men interested of simply pursuing directly the intoxication of drink and the attention of whores.

I have noticed that people are obsessed with sexual and physical attributes,

(Me included), and our society puts a premium on physical performance. The latter, of course, gives these attributes greater weight as social and sexual currency. I think that their over-emphasis, as an end rather than as a means to an end, has caused much human misery. I have fought to overcome my own obsessions, drives, and weaknesses. It has been a long battle. I still have far to go.