Heidegger

_GEVANS613 at aol.com_ (mailto:GEVANS613@aol.com) wrote:

An instantiation of the subject is performed by the utterance of the subject
name alone. In the example: /*Mark Twain is bald.*/ the nominatum [that
which is named] - the subject name *Mark Twain* is instantly instantiated in the
mind of the reader or addressee without any need of the *is* word.

Joe:
whatever is “instantly instantiated in the mind of the reader or addressee”
is a phenomenological reality to that experiencer.

Jud:
You are just *making words up* to describe something that you imagine
exists. Many children are quite convinced that they have *an imaginary friend*
There was a film made years ago about a man who had an imaginary friend he called
*Harvey.*

You are just like Heidegger - he had an imaginary friend called *Being* that
floated after him as he moved from room to room. Your particular imaginary
companion is
*reality* - an imagined *state or *process* or *experience* that you imagine
is known to you through your senses rather than by or reasoning out the real
fact. And what is the real fact? The real fact is that your *reality* is
your *Being* or *Harvey* - just an abstract noun, the concept or idea of which
is not associated with any specific instance of the actual real objects which
surround you.

You want proof of the instant instantiation of an idea which corresponds to
the *is-less* utterance of a entitive subject? any subject?

Pick out anyone you know and utter the name of a person, place or thing.
Just say *albatross.* or * The Battle of Hastings* or *Candyfloss* and see what
happens. There will be a silence as the addressee waits for you to add a
predicate. Finally they will say: *OK, what about an albatross, candyfloss, the
Battle of Hastings?* In other words just like Michael P standing in the hall
and then being announced at the party without any of the party-goers seeing
him, the conceptualisation of MichaelP, an albatross, candyfloss, and the Battle
of Hastings is instantiated in the addressee as an instance of how they
exist at the time they hear the utterance. Hearing those subject names and the
way that their brain responds is THE WAY THAT THEY EXIST AT THAT MOMENT. There
is no *Being* or Harvey* or *phenomenal reality* involved - there is the
utterer and the addressee of that uttering utterer..

Joe:
among the questions that concern philosophers is whether there is a
metaphenomenal reality correlated with the phenomenological reality instantiated
within the experiencer; and, if so, is that metaphenomenal reality physical or
non-physical?

Jud:
A *metaphenomenal reality* you say? Are you not transcendentally satisfied
with one level of reification? First you add one imaginary domain of
*phenomenological reality* to your Battenburg cake of fancy, now you add another layer
of conceptual confection in the form of a *metaphenomenal reality.* No doubt
you self-appointed position as the Milton Snavely Hershey of Heideggerianism
will motivate you to add another layer of candylike inconceivability in the
form of a *meta-metaphenomenal reality,* and a *meta-meta-metaphenomenal
reality,* until it has enough layers or tiers of unreality to act as a wedding
cake for the marriage of Hiëronymus Bosch and Ayn Rand?

Joe: if I say ‘2 is an even prime number’ a phenomenological reality is
instantiated in the experiencer of my statement. is there a

Jud: I one utters the word *Two.* The answer you get back will be *TWO
WHAT?!! There is no metaphenomenal reality associated with the expression *Two*
there is only the missing predicate missing: *TWO WHAT?!! (*is* is surplus and
not required - for the number is explicit in the word itself)

Joe:
if so, is it a physical reality or a non-physical reality?

Jud:
NO you dilly - only the utterer and the addressee exist.

Bottom line? To be, was, were, be, was, am, are, is, will be have NOTHING at
all to do with existence and EVERYTHING to do with the WAY things exist.

Where does this leave Joe’s ontological paradigms? I do not know.

Joe:
my concerns are left outside the scope of your edition of the newspeak
dictionary.

Jud:
Your concerns are in a cloud cuckoo land where your *What am Eyes* and your
*I Yams* whirl around in your head like the pack of cards at the trial of The
Knave of Hearts: The unfortunate Knave is the man on trial, accused of
stealing the farts of the Queen of Hearts and not knowing *what he is* . The
evidence produced against him which suggests that he is in fact a Knave who knows
who he is, but not what he is which is a nutter who steals farts.

The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. *What are they
doing?’* Alice whispered to the Romanian Gryphon. *They can’t have anything to
put down yet, before the trial’s begun.*

*They’re putting down their names,’* the Romanian Gryphon, whispered in
reply, brushing a Fregian fly from his Ceasecu of Romania tee-shirt, `for fear
they should forget them before the end of the trial. - You see the one
thing they know is *who they are* but they do not know *what they are.

*What are they then?* asked Alice.* *They are mad*, said the Romanian
Gryphon, grinning, *They do not believe in God - so they MUST be mad.*

The first witness is the mad Heideggerian Hatter. He came in with a stein in
one hand and a piece of brot-und-sauerkraut in the other.

*Heil! , your Majesty,’ he began, *for bringing these in: but I hadn’t
quite finished my brotwurst when I was sent for*

.. ‘The king threatens the The Mad Heideggerian Hatter all through the cross
examination, and that Hatter becomes more and more nervous and starts
screaming: *Being! Being* Being! to revive his spirits which are his constant
companions.

*Take off your hat,* the King said to the Hatter.

*It isn’t mine,* said the Hatter.

*It is your hat I am talking about, not your ideas,* replied the King
sharply.

During the cross examination, Alice feels herself starting to grow. Also,
two guinea pigs, at different points, make noise like an Arendtian squeal of
sexual delight and are suppressed. “Suppressed” for residents of the
Heideggerian Wonderland means being stuffed into a large empty mangelwurzel sack and
then sat upon.

One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice could
not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon found
an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so quickly that the poor little
juror, it was Michael the Dormouse, who could not make out at all what had
become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was obliged to sit on
the fence be always lugs around with him and sit upon at the back of the court
to write with one finger for the rest of the day; and this was of very little
use, which like his personality left no mark on the slate.

Alice is quite glad to witness it the trial which reminded her of a yahoo
list she was once on,, because she had read the word *trial* many times in
newspapers (the ones that do the *newspeak*) and never knew what it meant. The
Hatter is excused, and he takes off to go back to his bucket of sauerkraut.
When he gets outside, the Queen calls for him to be executed, but the Hatter
manages to escape by altering her words to suit his own escapological agenda.

The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbi who said in a low voice, *Your
Majesty must cross-examine THIS witness.*

*Well, if I must, I must,* the King said, with a melancholy air, and, after
folding his arms and frowning at the Heideggerian mad Hatter till his eyes
were nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, *What are objects made of?*

*Platonic Forms, mostly,’ said the Hatter.

*Transcendentalist Treacle,* said a sleepy voice behind him.

*Collar that Dormouse,* the Queen shrieked out. *Behead that Dormouse and
put his bonze between to rounds of bread and call it a Sandwich! Turn that
Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his whiskers!’ Make
him play an overture to Heidegger on a Jew’s Harp without a metal zinger.

For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse
turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the Gryphon had
disappeared back into his coffin in a cloud of Transylvanian smoke.

*Off with his trousers !* the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody
moved.

*Who cares for you?* said Alice, *You’re nothing but a pack of metaphysical
cards!*

At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her:
she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat
them off, and found herself lying on the bank transformed back into the Joe
who does not know what he is. His head was in the lap of his sister, who was
gently brushing away some dead axioms that had fluttered down from the trees
upon her face.

*Wake up, Joe dear!* said his sister; *Why, what a long sleep you’ve had!*

*What am I?! What am I?* Joe asked standing erect and shaking his lower
body to remove an axiom which had slipped down his trouser-leg.

*You are a redefiner of our language so that there is no grammatical way to
ponder the fact of who you are,* said his sister wearily, *in fact the whole
family are fed up to the teeth with your fantasies.* continued his sister -
as she applied a bag of ice to his fevered forehead.

*But I am who I am without also making a claim as to what I am.* cried Joe,
picking at his teeth with a sharpened yod, at another axiom which had lodged
itself in his teeth.

His sister slipped away to the telephone.
*I will be back in a minute dear,* she said with a worried frown.

*Michael E’s edition of the newspeak dictionary is only slightly different
from Jud’s. His version allows one to ask ‘what am I?’ but there is no
grammatical way to disagree with his answer*

‘I am a being’* cried Joe when the men in the white coats arrived.

*Yes, we can see that,* said the paramedics not unkindly.

*HELP! What am I?* screamed Joe, as he was bundled into the back of the
ambulance.

*A bloody nuisance,* said the medic as he slammed the door behind him.

Posted on Thursday, January 17th, 2008 at 4:55 pm
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