‎vere tu es deus absconditus deus sui salvator

As is well-known, God helps those who help themselves, which renders God’s help rather superfluous. Now, let us consider an apposite God, one who is committed to helping exactly those who do not help themselves. We bear in mind that, unlike Russell’s barber, who is free to shrug off as impossible his duty to shave those, and only those, who do not shave themselves, the perfection of God requires that he actually do everything he is committed to do. Then is our God under obligation to help Himself?

(Originally published on 20 January 1993.)

Crossposted to [info]larvatus and [info]philosophy.

latest advances in russian spirituality

Во всех мировых религиях Бог создавал мир из какой-то первоматерии, “гиле”. И только в иудаизме Бог создал мир из ничего.
    Отсюда и еврейское отношение к производительному труду. Отсюда и еврейская страсть к спекуляции, финансовым операциям и гуманитарным дисциплинам.
    Еврей подобен своему Богу: он делает деньги из ничего, в отличие от остальных народов, которые «в поте лица своего» делают деньги из чего-то. “Золото за медь”, “золото за пшеницу”.
    Доблесть же еврея — наебать, надуть, продать и перепродать полную хуйню — за полновесное золото.
    ― Константин Крылов ([info]krylov), Zoroastrian philosopher of Russian descent and convictions @ 20070624 19:10:00
In all world religions, God created the world out of a primal matter, “hyle”. And only in Judaism God created the world out of nothing.
    Hence the Jewish attitude towards productive work. Hence the Jewish passion for profit, financial transactions and the humanities.
    Each Jew is like his God: he makes money out of nothing, as opposed to other people who “by the sweat of their brow” make money out of something. “Gold for copper”, “gold for wheat”.
    And the valor of the Jew is to fuck over, to swindle, to sell and resell pure bullshit — for pure gold.
    ― translated by MZ

Crossposted to [info]larvatus and [info]philosophy.

if you can’t annoy somebody, there’s little point in writing

It has never surprised me that some men should try to beat Don Juan’s traditional total, only that more do not. Seduction is the unique sensual act; other pleasures, including sex per se, are mere activities, durative and repetitive. Each particular seduction is a final and unchangeable thing, a part of history. … A sculpture can become nothing but a stale grotesque, a poem lose all its edge, but nothing of the sort can happen to what you got up to that night with the princess or the barmaid.”
Kingsley Amis
“Я никогда не удивлялся тому, что некоторые мужчины стараются превзойти традиционный итог Дон Жуана, а только тому, что это не делается чаще. Соблазнение является единственным сладострастным актом; другие наслаждения, включая сам по себе половой акт, это всего лишь действия, продолжительные и повторительные. Каждое отдельное соблазнение является окончательной и неизменяемой вещью, частью истории. … Скульптура может сойти в ничто кроме застоявшегося гротеска, стихотворение может полностью потерять свою остроту, но ничего подобного не может произойти с той ночью с принцессой или буфетчицой.”
― перевёл МЗ

toute nation a le gouvernement qu’elle mérite

Front cover of Paris Match 25 June - 2
 July 1955

Et voici maintenant un autre exemple : je suis chez le coiffeur, on me tend un numéro de Paris-Match. Sur la couverture, un jeune nègre vêtu d’un uniforme français fait le salut militaire, les yeux levés, fixés sans doute sur un pli du drapeau tricolore. Cela, c’est le sens de l’image. Mais naïfs ou pas, je vois bien ce qu’elle me signifie : que la France est un grand Empire, que tous ses fils, sans distinction de couleur, servent fidèlement sous son drapeau, et qu’il n’est de meilleure réponse aux détracteurs d’un colonialisme prétendu, que le zèle de ce noir à servir ses prétendus oppresseurs.
—Roland Barthes, « Le Mythe aujourd’hui », Mythologies, Paris: Seuil, 1970, p. 201
And here is now another example: I am at the hairdresser, someone hands me an issue of Paris-Match. On the cover, a young Negro in a French army uniform is saluting, his eyes uplifted, doubtless fixed on a fold of the Tricolor. That is the meaning of the image. But naively or not, I clearly understand what it signifies to me: that France is a great Empire, that all her sons, regardless of color, faithfully serve under her flag, and that there is no better answer to the detractors of an alleged colonialism, than the zeal of this black man to serve his alleged oppressors.
― translated by MZ

Жиды погубят Россию

nice people

Thus quoth Hermione Eyre in The Dictionary of National Celebrity, co-authored and inspired by Willie Donaldson:

Fry, Stephen (b.1960). Stupid person’s idea of a clever person.

Hilton, Paris (b.1981). Looks like a shivering whippet dipped in bleach. She is the great-granddaughter of hotel magnate Conrad Hilton and grand- niece of Nicholas Conrad Hilton (Elizabeth Taylor’s first husband). In November 2003 a private video of Miss Hilton locked into a variety of strangely unimaginative sexual positions with her boyfriend, Rick Solomon, was circulated on the internet. Her father was highly embarrassed, as was natural; the video was filmed in the top suite at the Marriott Hotel. Happily, family harmony has been restored.

Lawson, Nigella (b.1960). To make this tasty TV chef, follow these simple steps. Take one prominent Conservative MP and one Jewish heiress, and breed. Give the child a funny name, and watch it simmer with resentment. Do not be alarmed when it goes lumpy and left wing while an Oxford undergraduate. Give it a few more years and it will become curvaceous and wildly interested in cupcakes. Dress in tight-fitting womanly twinsets, add a little tongue-flicking sauce and a hint of self-parody, and serve once a week on the television. Healthy audience appetites guaranteed.

Thompson, Emma (b.1961). Unaffected luvvie. Expressions she uses on set to prove she’s one of the chaps: ‘Oh fuckity fuck!’ ‘Oh lorks! I’ve just come on!’ ‘Crikey Moses! My knickers have gone up my crack!’

Many such gems can be found in a biography of Donaldson by Terence Blacker, as reviewed in the TLS by David Sexton, the literary editor of Evening Standard.