Why god has died.
Nevermind god for a second, let's look at something else.
So, the position of the literary "critic", or however you'd call him, is very tenuous indeed. Here's how it goes :
A third party (the author) produces a string S.
This may be productive for the author (economically, morally, sexually, however), but most often it is not.
The "critic" then endeavours to extract more out of whatever sloppy seconds are left after the original author is done.
To be perfectly clear : authors produce for all sorts of reasons, from patent insanity to an irritated esthetic, ethic or otherwise sense ; or because they happen to be drunk, or inspired or transported or anally probed by aliens, muses, machine elves etcetera ; or because they hope to be rich and famous ; or because they already are rich and famous ; or for all sorts of reasons. Critics, however, write for one reason, and one reason only : to get something by it. Whether it's money, or fame, or the favours of some smegmatic cunt -- there's no such thing as the critic who writes for any other reason than the hope of extraction, of benefit of some kind or another.
There are cases where the critic is actually an author himself, either an incomplete, impotent author ("Please do not eat the daisies" tells a great story in this vein) or else the fully blown item (such as you can admire on this here our sheet of immorality, Trilema) and thereby his "criticism" is merely a literary device, a transparent pretext. These cases are however rare, and such authors may be also critics, but they'll never be critics full stop, critics as such and plain-and-simplei.
On top of all these indignities the gods have rightfully piled on the deserving, the critic's position is made even more tenuous by the following circumstance : while the author may speak of whatever he pleases, the critic must speak of S! He's stuck, in a way the author isn't, and what's worse : this relevancy, this "about-S"ness is actually a foundational promise of the critic. If it should be the case that his verbiage turns out to not actually be about S, then whatever he managed to extract goes right into the injust enrichment pile, probably to be refunded!
For instance, the teacher who purports to teach Physics but turns out to have taught pseudo-Physics may manage to avoid having to repay whatever fees he already pocketed for his services, but is surely out of a job. Similarily, the "university" professor passingii himself for a critic of, say, Proust, should he be shown to have not, for instance, ever read Proust will thereby lose his job. Such is the indignity of the critic's position : his life's work is his livelihood, and his livelihood entirely depends on his having a close relation with S.
This opens the critic to the sorest fate of them all : because the author has a priviledged relationship with S, it therefore is the case that the critic's livelihood, and thereby his life's work, is entirely at the mercy of the author! Should the author stand up in the forum and invalidate the critic-S relationship, in whatever manner, such as for instance declaring "this dood has no fucking idea what he's talking about", the critic's up shit creekic without a paddleic.
Once the final throes of industrialization (sometimes called post-industrialization) have smashed together sufficient ex-laborers into dead end functions so that the universities were so fulla "professors" they actually started competing with each other!iii the critics then finally organized together for political ends (or in proper words -- to try and rob the public treasury for their own benefit). First on the list, obviously, the most burning problem of them all : that pesky author, and his hierarchial position over them.
How! They, clever, independent pantsuit-wearing scions of ourdemocracy to be mere slaves on the farm owned by another ? No! And so the solution was readily found : the author, see, has died! And as the author died, the slaves of yesteryear inherited the land, and get to sleep in finery and get to call the shots.
But why was this solution so readily found ? Why... because it... was found... once before. You see, the transition from the original Jewish god, eternal, omniscient and very, very angry to the catholic-protestant "Jesus", a ridiculous concoction, substantially as well as fundamentally undivine is exactly this same thing!
He has a pet dog, now, you see. God has a pet dog, and picket fences, and a mother, and a wife and a girlfriend, and of course credit cards.iv The God 2.0 of catholic-protestancy has all the good things, and especially the best one of them all : he can now die!
A god that can die is a fabulous item, because you see... finally... the death of the author! God can die, and the critics can tell you it was "for you", which it wasn't. It was for them.
God so much loved this world, he went down to the unemployment office to stand in line so Hillary can yak importantly about herdemocracy. And so should you!
Isn't soviet life wonderful ?
———Teachers are a particular case of critics plain-and-simple. They usually hope to get a little money by it, and a lot of respect. Rarely, they hope to get exactly what G. Petronius describes :
"In Asiam cum a quaestore essem stipendio eductus, hospitium Pergami accepi. Vbi cum libenter habitarem non solum propter cultum aedicularum, sed etiam propter hospitis formosissimum filium, excogitavi rationem qua non essem patri familiae suspectus amator. Quotiescunque enim in convivio de usu formosorum mentio facta est, tam vehementer excandui, tam severa tristitia violari aures meas obsceno sermone nolui, ut me mater praecipue tanquam unum ex philosophis intueretur. Jam ego coeperam ephebum in gymnasium deducere, ego studia eius ordinare, ego docere ac praecipere, ne quis praedator corporis admitteretur in domum.
Forte cum in triclinio iaceremus, quia dies sollemnis ludum artaverat pigritiamque recedendi imposuerat hilaritas longior, fere circa mediam noctem intellexi puerum vigilare. Itaque timidissimo murmure votum feci et: "Domina, inquam, Venus, si ego hunc puerum basiavero, ita ut ille non sentiat, cras illi par columbarum donabo". Audito voluptatis pretio puer stertere coepit. Itaque aggressus simulantem aliquot basiolis invasi. Contentus hoc principio bene mane surrexi electumque par columbarum attuli expectanti ac me voto exsolvi.
[↩]The word denotes what transsexuals and crossdressers do when they pretend to be the gender they aren't ; and also what pseudointellectuals do when they pretend to a life of the mind. [↩]Think, what fucking nonsense this is, when you have more supposedly qualified professors than you have jobs for them! How, how could such a situation make any sort of sense ? [↩]Oh, you think I'm making shit up to go with the flow ? I'm not making it up, the shit's right there. Jahveh never fucking said "give unto Cesar", now did he ? [↩]
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Category: Gandesc, deci gandesc
Tuesday, 01 August, Year 9 d.Tr.