Heidegger

In a message dated 01/10/2007 01:20:54 GMT Standard Time, _Bernx at aol.com_
(mailto:Bernx@aol.com) writes: In a message dated 9/30/2007 4:50:17 PM Eastern
Daylight Time, _GEVANS613 at aol.com_ (mailto:GEVANS613@aol.com) writes:

Hi Michael:
Funny that we were discussing the Ontological *fun-language* or Heidy-speak.
A German book supplier with whom I have dealt with in the past sent news of
a new book on Heidegger [in German] of which the whole raison denture is to
take the piss out of Heidegger’s weird way of torturing the Logos.

Dear Jud;
I appreciate the levity by which you come to bury Heidegger in the same
grave as Plato & co. What I do not appreciate is how you depreciate saurekraut
and bury it in the same grave. You see, I am not, such as yourself,
heteronophobic enough about such seasoned cabbage since it is a delight in the here and
now of my hot dog on a bun (with some mustard, of course).

Jud:
Sautkraut is a symbol of what is not nice about Germany and the Germans. The
look - the dark green characterless gooiness of it, is redolent of
*Continental Philosophy,* (primitive, oafish, skinheaded, uncultured and
vicious)

The smell of it, with its imagery of barrack-rooms full of German skinheaded
farting feldwebels, pumping out their metaphysical methane gas from both
ends at once.

Bernard:
Ah, so! I finally figured out your role, playing on the stage boards of this
Heidegger forum. Indeed, like a good Englishman, although hardly a
gentleman, your are indulged in Shakespeare’s hilarious chop logic and playing the
role of the gravedigger in dialogue with a witless Hamlet. So dig away m’lad for
it is only a woman’s hole that you dig for:

Jud:
You are right, the witless Heidegger is an easy foil I agree, combining as
he does all the necessary elements of a philosophical patsy - stupidity, a
naive peasant-like mind, complete absence of lateral thinking, deviousness, a
liar, a belief in ontological ghosties - a kind of scatterbrained , loutish
Jerry Lewis to Jasper’s affable Dean Martin.

HAMLET Whose grave’s this, sirrah? GRAVE-DIGGER: Mine, sir. HAMLET: I think
it be thine indeed, for thou liest in it. GRAVE-DIGGER: You lie out of it,
sir, and therefore ’tis not yours. For my part, I do not lie in it, yet it is
mine. HAMLET: Thou dost lie in it, to be in it and say ’tis thine. ‘Tis for the
dead, not for the quick: therefore thou liest. GRAVE-DIGGER: ‘Tis a quick
lie, sir, ’twill away again from me to you. HAMLET: What man dost thou dig it
for? GRAVE-DIGGER: For no man, sir: HAMLET: What woman then? GRAVE-DIGGER: For
none neither. HAMLET: Who is to be buried in it? GRAVE-DIGGER: One that was
a woman, sir; but rest her soul, she’s dead.

Jud:
You made me smile with your exemplificationary snippet from the Bard.

I once went to a night club in Manchester with a crowd of the boys from the
place in which I worked at the time. Suddenly an electronic organ complete
with organist arose on a concealed platform from out of the stage- floor. The
organ was decorated with a host of flashing lights of all types, some of which
seemed to run along the outlines of the instrument as if following one
another. It turned to my companion Rick [an intelligent fellow]

*The lights are meant to capture the attention of the turds,* [hoi polloi] I
said, *and to divert their attention away from the poor quality of the
organist.*

My companion nodded and agreed.

Just then the thicko in the party approached us excitedly,

*Look,* he said *arent the lights on the organ great!*

Rick and I looked at each other and laughed.

Shakespeare was dealing with a mixed audience too. Much of the meaningful
[philosophical] insights went right over the heads of the groundlings [the
uneducated poor who stood in dense [sic] crowd in the unseated area immediately
in front of the proscenium]
But they had paid to be entertained, so the Bard always included a bit of
knock-about ribaldry to cater for this narrow-foreheaded element.

It is sad that of all the textual treasures available for the
culture-vulture you were attracted to Shakespeare’ organ decoration, and situated your POV
from the baked earth in front of the stage, rather than from the more
intellectual galleries of the educated.

But what else can we expect from an consumer of boiled fermented cabbage?
;-)

Gravedigger:
And if I may put words in the Jud-digger’s mouth I would say: “And may your
anima (psychros*) rest in peace.”

sincerely;

Bernard note:* Psychros means cold and fridgid and like permafrost if you
please.

Jud:
Cold Horatio? Frigid? My wife burst into laughter went she read those words
on the screen.
Why, only this very morning…behind the arras…;-)

I think such a description is more appropriate for the unsmiling [obviously
unhappy] sour kraut than for me.

Anyway less of this crap and more of your interesting personal adventurous
bio please.

Regards,

Jud Personal Website:
_http://evans-experientialism.freewebspace.com/index.htm_  http://evans-experientialism.freewebspac…)

“In nuclear war all men are cremated equal.” Dexter Gordon

Posted on Monday, October 1st, 2007 at 9:40 am
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