The shameless rape of the planet by contemporary capitalism—the purging of the seas, the burning of the forests, the paving of wetlands and dunes, the mindless consumption of fossil fuel—is not the disease. It is a symptom. Trying to curb such a malady is like taking an aspirin to heal a brain tumor.
If human being is a mutation gone awry, the white man is a virulent virus, consuming its host with tenacious, blind vigor. The white man, you see, is a vampire, incapable of producing his own source of life and so he is forced to drink the blood of others. That is what a virus is: it either kills its host or is killed by its host; it never seeks symbiosis.
And the main source of life these zombie virus vampires go for is life itself! The 40 hour work week with 3 martini lunches and summer vacations has becomes the 70 hour work week, a lunch wrap made of reconstituted flesh and fat and, perhaps, a long weekend to catch up on laundry and bills. Capitalism is exhausting all reserves of life to fuel itself. And who fuels capitalism? Stupid, soulless, fat fucking white men.
C'mon, people, this is not subtle. What the fuck is Viagra but the last ditch effort of a culture that has no place for pleasure—a culture that can't get it up? Jesus fucking Christ, the rape of the land is a symptom, not the disease. When some environmentalist busts his ass 70 hours a week, comes home stressed out of his mind and pops a Viagra just so he can jerk off to some web porn because his wife has lost all remnants of the erotic, he is not doing the world a service. On the contrary, he has joined the army of vampires.
Vampirism is not sustainable. It's a zero sum game. Hence, the human species is not sustainable. The white man virus is flooding the planet with his disease and soon there will be nothing left.
We don't need changes of law or changes of regime: we need changes of species.
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Maybe that is the whole point of the animal sex, trying to create a new species. I disagree with your classification of things; come on am I really the same species as Bush? I don’t think so…What are you basing your classification on? You know scientists have for years been searching for the missing link and maybe it just walks among us, like the less developed of us, capitalists, war mongers, advertisers, people that believe advertisers (you ever read Bernays and the use of psychoanalysis to make people consumers? Love how they originally got women to smoke, it’s so diabolical) and that asshole who is searching through his/her pockets for money when it’s time to pay the cashier even though he/she has been waiting in line for five minutes.
Yeah. Sure I can see myself in them; about as much as I can see myself in a monkey that rides a bike at a zoo.
That being said, I gotta admit man that maybe capitalism isn’t that bad, or wait yeah its fucking bad but what are the other options? The vegetable kingdom of Communism isn’t even worth talking about cause no one wanted to work and the society still got run by assholes who fucked everyone else and no one really gave a shit about each other; as the species of dickheads still exists and they always rule as those of us evolved enough can’t give two shits about ruling and they get in and fuck us. So we just have to let it go man, let them do what they do as there ain’t no stopping it. If it tears you up too much, may I suggest a heavy diet of hard drugs? Or maybe a lobotomy? Or sitting in a room for days on end reading “How to…..for dummies, while listening to Rush Limbaugh, and watching daytime. That will condition you. Come to room 101 we’ll sort you out. Make you a capitalist in no time.
But see here is where I gotta split from you, I’m an optimist on this whole thing. Maybe a bit naïve granted but hey why not? I think the capitalist, being always interested in their own well being will get to the edge realize what the fuck is happening to the planet and figure out a way to profit from saving the planet. And if not the world will wipe us out and start again. Either solution ain’t that bad. Solution one, things get better, solution 2, I ain’t here to give a shit.
Or maybe we can just hope that the snake woman fuck fest pays off.
I like your valiant, indeed noble, efforts at reclassification. I WISH I were a different species than, say, this Bush character you mention. But we all seem to share a common trait: birth demands pleasure eradication.
Breeders are evacuated by those they breed. Human children are tireless vampires. Their big fucking heads - yes, humans have big fucking heads -- bust the site of great pleasure in two. And then immediately claim ownership of another source of great pleasure, suckling and gnawing with grotesque abandon.
And these big heads mean these human spawn are born dramatically undercooked. So parents are left to tend endlessly to every need. Which is to say, the conditions of the species is such that to give life means the end of life for the life giver.
Now, there may be conditions in which human breeders can survive. But it sure as shit ain't the bourgeois family unit. It's the tribe, an extended network of labor sharing. Will capitalism re-institute the tribe? I think not.
But you are right: capitalism will probably find a way. As Houellebecq argues, it will probably be cloning—eliminate childhood all together.
And perhaps, as clones, we will rediscover pleasure.
But capitalism is fundamentally a zero sum game as it's premised on vampirism, on need, not on pleasure, delectation. It substitutes consumption for enjoyment.
Am I opting for something like communism? Of course not. I don't know anything about political systems. All I do know is that a system premised on the exhaustion of life forces—and I don't mean fossil fuel, I mean human fuel—is a zero sum game. A dead end.
But, to quote Burroughs quoting Shakespeare, "Let it come down."
I like your point, is the birth of a child the final domestication of the woman? The man is still free to fuck and frolic and wander to a new unbroken pussy and dive in. But the splitting of a woman; means sex now is more of an act of pattern and a way to keep her man pleased than one of joy and pleasure. In parts of the world, where the tribe mentality still exists much more than in the West, some of these tribes circumcise the woman from a very young age, cutting out the clitoris. They believe this makes the woman more likely to stay at home; almost in the way you neuter or spade a rambunctious puppy.
Women are an amazing creature, the way they change after one child: they still try and be the person they were before; the person they have spent so long cultivating and becoming; but after the second; their life purpose has been completed; she’s replaced you and her and her two tits can be sucked on by the always hungry beasts. The pussy is now an irrelevant object; it is used to attract man and give birth to a replacement of that man. What more use can be expected of it?
By tribe; what do you mean? Are you suggesting a tribe with no net? Or a Rawlsian idea? Maybe a Platonic Republic Society; where children are raised by nannies and breeding is chosen by lot? Long as we still have internet porn; I’m good with it. You mention Kierkegaard and as he writes Hang yourself or don’t hang yourself, either way you’ll regret it.
Was reading what you write about the old guy sitting at the bar trying to pick up the young girls; I used to think that was awful, but is he anymore unhappy than the old guy sitting at home rotting on the couch waiting to die with a wife beside him that he hasn’t fucked or felt like fucking in 20 years. I used to believe that guy at the bar was delud but the old guy sitting in the bar still has that pleasure that moment of feeling like a man, of feeling alive when he fucks some girl.
Sure he sits and rots all alone, but is rotting with grandma by your side better than rotting with a girl with a warm sweet pussy that is only there cause you pay her. I don’t know?
There must be some other way to settle this argument? Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back.
Thank goodness for paid-for-pussy is all I know. It is the sole refuge of today's castrated male. The kid busting the pussy in two may suck for the woman but it sucks for the man, too. Because while he is capable of finding unsullied cunt out and about, the fact is, the busted pussy brings with it not just the eradication of domestic pleasure but the inauguration of an elaborate campaign of guilt. Guilt over everything—guilt that he didn't have his pussy busted in two; guilty that he didn't have his tits sucked raw night and after night; guilty for taking any semblance of his own pleasure like watching a fucking baseball game.
So, sure, the man is physically capable of finding taut pussy but the guilt knocks his cock of its block. And perhaps it's his own fault; perhaps he could and should shed his guilt like a snake sloughs its skin. But guilt is an insidious virus that's only grown more powerful over the years thanks to an elaborate discursive engine that runs through family, academia, television. Men are domesticated by the busted pussy as much as woman is.
And both, alas, are prisoners of the most horrible viral mutation the white man has birthed: the nuclear family unit. Isolated in their domestic madness, the dementia only escalates, released now and again by the internet, that porn delivery system.
So what do I mean by tribe? I don't know. I do know that I want -- nay, need -- some bevy of capable women to raise the child so I can feel free to roam unencumbered by the horrible cocktail of fatigue, responsibility, and guilt. Give me an army of laborers and I will be free. Hannah Arendt understood: only with servants can man be free.
It's all this compulsive pleasure that's the problem, really. Or rather, it's the promise of pleasure that seems to eradicate pleasure. I mean, who told you that pleasure was even in the fucking cards, let alone the deck? That one bit of pleasure that you feel you used to have or have coming to you is what needs re-classification.
Once with child, man or woman, the pleasure changes. Much like a post-preggo lady your pleasure center yearns for that long lost shot of jager-pleasure. But admit it. You've changed. It's now an issue of recognizing other kinds of pleasure. Your nostalgia for an army of minions to set you free to frolic like days gone by is fruitless.
Robinson Crusoe could never re-create England with Friday, let alone, Monday or Wednesday. CRUSOE's piggyheadedness (ala Piggy from Lord of the Flies) was never dealt with properly. Friday never had the guts to take his pleasure and Crusoe could never appreciate the island for what it really was: a quiet kind of paradise.
Don't force pleasure on others. Let pleasure happen. Take your time with it and it won't disappear so quickly. It's most pleasurable that way. To quote Derrida in a way, "Let us pleasure."
Wisdom, almost, of a sort.
But this is the source of my ceaseless horror, this is what continues to shock, surprise, anger me: pleasure is so readily had. Pleasure—or, rather, the possibility of pleasure—abounds. It's there in a stroll; in holding hands; in spaghetti and sushi and chocolate; in listening to Brian Eno and Led Zeppelin; in just lying quietly on one's back on the floor in the living room, watching the impossibly close San Francisco sky pass by. But the world doesn't want it. The world throws so many unnecessary obstacles—Get off the floor, dickhead, you need to work! No strolling for you, jewboy, back to work!
My plea for pleasure is not deep; it's not profound; it's not interesting or new. It's naive, I admit it. But this does not deter me. Perhaps it should. Perhaps you're right and I should stop seeking it, that I should find other sources of pleasure—the pleasure of writing a catchy tag line; the pleasure of finding 20 minutes twice a week to beat my meat. Maybe.
But I fear I'm just not built for this life. My shoulders can't bear the weight.
All of your comments about women, "Henri," seem to be a justification for fucking prostitutes and young women that could probably pass for your daughters.
Who's the ho?
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