l’amour, l’amour

Pour l’Islam, ce n’est plus du mépris que vous exprimez, mais de la haine?
M.H. Oui, oui, on peut parler de haine.
Est-ce lié au fait que votre mère s’est convertie à l’islam?
M.H. Pas tant que ça, parce que je ne l’ai jamais prise au sérieux. C’était le dernier moyen qu’elle avait trouvé pour emmerder le monde après une série d’expériences tout aussi ridicules. Non, j’ai eu une espèce de révélation négative dans le Sinaï, là où Moïse a reçu les Dix Commandements… subitement j’ai éprouvé un rejet total pour les monothéismes. Dans ce paysage très minéral, très inspirant, je me suis dit que le fait de croire à un seul Dieu était le fait d’un crétin, je ne trouvais pas d’autre mot. Et la religion la plus con, c’est quand même l’islam. Quand on lit le Coran, on est effondré… effondré! La Bible, au moins, c’est très beau, parce que les juifs ont un sacré talent littéraire… ce qui peut excuser beaucoup de choses. Du coup, j’ai une sympathie résiduelle pour le catholicisme, à cause de son aspect polythéiste. Et puis il y a toutes ces églises, ces vitraux, ces peintures, ces sculptures…

—Michel Houellebecq, entretien par Didier Sénécal,
publié le 01/09/2001

  1. En amour, il y en a toujours un qui souffre et l’autre qui s’emmerde.
  2. Jésus qui nous aime a tant souffert pour nous, donc il nous emmerde.
  3. En faisant souffrir tout le monde, Mahomet a évité cette erreur.
  4. Ainsi l’Islam a devenu la religion la plus divertissante du monde…

essays on man and woman

An Essay on Man
An Essay on Woman
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
To low ambition, and the pride of kings.
Let us (since life can little more supply
Than just to look about us and to die)
Expatiate free o’er all this scene of man;
A mighty maze! but not without a plan;
A wild, where weeds and flow’rs promiscuous shoot;
Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit.
Together let us beat this ample field,
Try what the open, what the covert yield;
The latent tracts, the giddy heights explore
Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar;
Eye Nature’s walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise;
Laugh where we must, be candid where we can;
But vindicate the ways of God to man.
Awake, my Fanny, leave all meaner things;
This morn shall prove what rapture swiving brings!
Let us (since life can little more supply
Than just a few good Fucks and then we die)
Expatiate free o’er that lov’d scene of Man,
A mighty Maze! for mighty Pricks to scan;
A wild, where Paphian thorns promiscuous shoot,
Where flow’rs the monthly Rose, but yields no Fruit.
Together let us beat this ample Field,
Try what the open, what the Covert yield;
The latent Tracts, the pleasing Depths explore,
And my Prick clapp’d where thousands were before.
Observe how Nature works, and if it rise
Too quick and rapid, check it ere it flies;
Spend when we must, but keep it while we can:
Thus Godlike will be deem’d the the Ways of Man.
Say first, of God above, or man below,
What can we reason, but from what we know?
Of man what see we, but his station here,
From which to reason, or to which refer?
Through worlds unnumber’d though the God be known,
’Tis ours to trace him only in our own.
He, who through vast immensity can pierce,
See worlds on worlds compose one universe,
Observe how system into system runs,
What other planets circle other suns,
What varied being peoples ev’ry star,
May tell why Heav’n has made us as we are.
But of this frame the bearings, and the ties,
The strong connections, nice dependencies,
Gradations just, has thy pervading soul
Look’d through? or can a part contain the whole?
Is the great chain, that draws all to agree,
And drawn supports, upheld by God, or thee?
Say, first of Woman’s latent Charms below,
What can we reason but from what we know?
A Face, a Neck, a Breast, are all, appear
From which to reason, or to which refer.
In ev’ry Part we heavenly beauty own,
But we can trace it only in what’s shewn.
He who the Hoop’s Immensity can pierce,
Dart thro’ the Whalebone Folds vast Universe,
Observe how Circle into Circle runs,
What courts the Eye, and what all Vision shuns,
All the wild Modes of Dress our Females wear,
May guess what makes them thus transform’d appear
But of their Cunts, the Bearings and the Ties,
The nice Connexions, strong Dependencies,
The Latitude and Longitude of each
Hast thou gone throu’, or can thy Pego reach?
Was that great Ocean, that unbounded Sea
Where Pricks like Whales may sport, fathom’d by Thee?
Presumptuous man! the reason wouldst thou find,
Why form’d so weak, so little, and so blind?
First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,
Why form’d no weaker, blinder, and no less!
Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made
Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade?
Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
Why Jove’s satellites are less than Jove?
Presumptuous Prick! the reason would’st thou find
Why form’d so weak, so little and so blind?
First, if thou canst, the harder Reason guess
Why form’d no weaker, meaner and no less.
Ask of thy Mother’s Cunt why she was made
Of lesser Bore than Cow or hackney’d Jade?
Or ask thy raw-boned Scottish Father’s Tarse
Why larger he than Stallion or Jack Ass?
Of systems possible, if ’tis confest
That Wisdom infinite must form the best,
Where all must full or not coherent be,
And all that rises, rise in due degree;
Then, in the scale of reas’ning life, ’tis plain
There must be somewhere, such a rank as man:
And all the question (wrangle e’er so long)
Is only this, if God has plac’d him wrong?
Respecting man, whatever wrong we call,
May, must be right, as relative to all.
Of Pegos possible, if ’tis confess’d
That Wisdom infinite must form the best,
Where all must rise, or not coherent be,
And all that rises, rise in due Degree;
Then in the scale of various Pricks, ’tis plain
God-like erect, BUTE stands the foremost Man,
And all the Question (wrangle e’er so long)
Is only This, if Heaven plac’d him wrong?
Respecting him whatever wrong we call,
May, must be right, as relative to all.
In human works, though labour’d on with pain,
A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain;
In God’s, one single can its end produce;
Yet serves to second too some other use.
So man, who here seems principal alone,
Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown,
Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal;
’Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
When Frogs wou’d couple, labour’d on with Pain,
A thousand Wriggles scarce their purpose gain:
In Man a Dozen can his End produce,
And drench the Female with spermatic Juice.
Yet not our Pleasure seems God’s End alone,
Oft when we spend we propagate unknown;
Unwilling we may reach some other Goal,
And Sylphs and Gnomes may fuck in woman’s hole.
When the proud steed shall know why man restrains
His fiery course, or drives him o’er the plains:
When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod,
Is now a victim, and now Egypt’s God:
Then shall man’s pride and dulness comprehend
His actions’, passions’, being’s, use and end;
Why doing, suff’ring, check’d, impell’d; and why
This hour a slave, the next a deity.
When the proud Stallion knows whence ev’ry Vein
Now throbs with Lust and now is shrunk again;
The lusty Bull, why now he breaks the Clod,
Now wears a Garland, fair Europe’s God:
Then shall Man’s Pride and Pego comprehend
His Actions and Erections, Use and End.
Why at Celaenae Martyrdom, and why
At Lampsacus ador’d chief Deity.
Then say not man’s imperfect, Heav’n in fault;
Say rather, man’s as perfect as he ought:
His knowledge measur’d to his state and place,
His time a moment, and a point his space.
If to be perfect in a certain sphere,
What matter, soon or late, or here or there?
The blest today is as completely so,
As who began a thousand years ago.
Then say not Man’s imperfect, Heaven in fault,
Say rather, Man’s as perfect as he ought;
His Pego measured to the female Case
Betwixt a woman’s Thighs his proper Place;
And if to fuck in a proportion’d Sphere,
What matter how it is, or when, or where?
Fly fuck’d by Fly, may be completely so,
As Hussey’s Dutchess, or yon well-bull’d Cow.
Heav’n from all creatures hides the book of fate,
All but the page prescrib’d, their present state:
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know:
Or who could suffer being here below?
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleas’d to the last, he crops the flow’ry food,
And licks the hand just rais’d to shed his blood.
Heav’n from all creatures hides the Book of Fate
All but the page prescribed, the present state,
From boys what girls, from girls what women know,
Or what could suffer being here below?
Thy lust the Virgin dooms to bleed today,
Had she thy reason would she ’skip and play?
Pleas’d to the last, she likes the luscious food,
And grasps the prick just rais’d to shed her blood.
Oh blindness to the future! kindly giv’n,
That each may fill the circle mark’d by Heav’n:
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,
Atoms or systems into ruin hurl’d,
And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
Oh! Blindness to the Future, kindly given,
That each m’enjoy what fucks are mark’d by Heaven.
Who sees with equal Eye, as God of all,
The Man just mounting, and the Virgin’s Fall;
Prick, Cunt, and Ballocks in Convulsions hurl’d
And now a Hymen burst, and now a World.
Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore!
What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Hope, humbly, then, clean Girls; nor vainly soar
But fuck the Cunt at hand, and God adore.
What future Fucks he gives not thee to know
But gives that Cunt to be thy Blessing now.

— Alexander Pope

a brief visit to the red light district

Logical positivist Alfred Jules Ayer was renowned both as a fierce debater and an audacious womanizer. As his stepdaughter Gully Wells told his biographer Ben Rogers, in 1987, shortly after his seventy-seventh birthday party, Ayer cleverly conjoined these competitive qualities in an unexpectedly philanthropic encounter with a besotted raper wannabe:

It was at another party, given a little later in the year by the highly fashionable clothes designer, Fernando Sanchez, that he had a widely reported encounter. Ayer had always had an ability to pick up unlikely people and at yet another party had befriended Sanchez. Ayer was now standing near the entrance to the great white living-room of Sanchez’s West 57th Street apartment, chatting to a group of young models and designers, when a woman rushed in saying that a friend was being assaulted in a bedroom. Ayer went to investigate and found Mike Tyson forcing himself on a young south London model called Naomi Campbell, then just beginning her career. Ayer warned Tyson to desist. Tyson: ‘Do you know who the fuck I am? I’m the heavyweight champion of the world.’ Ayer stood his ground: ‘And I am the former Wykeham Professor of Logic. We are both pre-eminent men in our held; I suggest that we talk about this like rational men.’ Ayer and Tyson began to talk. Naomi Campbell slipped out.

In the following year, a no less competitive confrontation with a more formidable adversity left Ayer bested in a far less festive setting. In the articles reproduced and glossed below, he recounts and analyzes a near-death experience, which pitted him against a bright and painful red light that governed the universe, and the guardians of space and time. Some time later Jonathan Miller commented to Dee Wells, Ayer’s final and antepenultimate wife: “Freddie is in spectacularly good form!” To which she replied: “He’s so much nicer since he died.” A character-building opportunity of this sort would improve almost all of us.

What I Saw When I Was Dead
A.J. Ayer

A.J. Ayer post mortem, London, 5 October 1988, photo by Steve Pyke
My first attack of pneumonia occurred in the United States. I was in hospital for ten days in New York, after which the doctors said that I was well enough to leave. A final X-ray, however, which I underwent on the last morning, revealed that one of my lungs was not yet free from infection. This caused the most sympathetic of my doctors to suggest that it would be good for me to spend a few more days in hospital. I respected his opinion but since I was already dressed and psychologically disposed to put my illness behind me, I decided to take the risk. I spent the next few days in my stepdaughter’s apartment, and then made arrangements to fly back to England. When I arrived I believed myself to be cured and incontinently plunged into an even more hectic social round than that to which I had become habituated before I went to America.
    Retribution struck me on Sunday, May 30. Continue reading a brief visit to the red light district

your christmas message

I am about to write the world’s profoundest poem, with apologies to William James, the only one who has touched my my level of genius:

Hogamus, higamus,
God is polygynous.
Higamus, hogamus,
Christ was androgynous.

— Northrop Frye, Late Notebooks, 1982-1990

(William James, the author of Varieties of Religious Experience, was frustrated by the impression that he had forgotten numinous insights achieved while inhaling nitrous oxide. He finally resolved to write his thoughts down. A profound poem ensued: “Hogamus, higamus, / Men are polygamous. / Higamus, hogamus, / Women monogamous.”)

— Что такое женитьба с точки зрения физики процесса? — вопрошал один. — Это когда человек взял с собой в будущее поебаться, а оно по дороге протухло.
—Именно, — хихикал второй, тревожно косясь на Олега. — Женщина предлагает крайне некорректный контракт. Купить на все деньги много-много этого самого продукта, оптом на всю жизнь. Но продукт-то скоропортящийся! Даже если сначала будет хорошо, очень скоро станет плохо. А мужчине надо немного, но чтобы свежее и разное. И это, кстати, указание природы, требующей распространения генома, а не мнение какой-то там церковной общественности или климактериальных феминисток, которых в этой жизни не трахнет уже никто кроме инсульта. Короче, совсем разные бизнес-планы…

— What is marriage from the standpoint of process physics? — asked one of them. — It is the case of a man stocking up on fuck fodder for his future use, and then it rots along the way.
— Exactly — the other one giggled, glancing anxiously at Oleg. — A woman offers a highly improper contract. Spend all your money on lots and lots of the said product, wholesale for a lifetime. But the product is perishable! Even if at first it is good, very soon it will turn bad. And a man needs only a little bit, but fresh and assorted. And this, by the way, is a mandate of nature, which requires dissemination of the genome, and not some sanctimonious parochial notion or conceit of menopausal feminists no longer fit to be fucked in this life by anything other than a stroke. In short, very different business plans…

— Victor Pelevin, Pineapple Soda for the Lovely Lady

the necessity of acedia


    Lo naturale è sempre sanza errore,
ma l’altro puote errar per malo obietto
o per troppo o per poco di vigore.
    The natural is always without error,
but the other may err through an evil object
or through too much or too little vigor.
    —Dante, Purgatorio, Canto 17, 94-96

“To love is to risk not being loved in return.” This slogan, sometimes traced to Leo F. Buscaglia, or credited to Rollo May, proliferates in self-help manuals, many of them cast in a religious mold. Therein lies a contradiction. If God is love, he cannot but love every man. Then, if to love is to risk not being loved in return, it follows that men cannot love God for want of risk of not being loved by Him.

Nothing in this rebuttal depends on the meaning of is. If God is love, the inference goes through with the copula being interpreted as a relation of identity, predication, or belonging. It might be argued that in loving God man runs the risk of not being loved in return, in the event of His non-existence. But it is implausible that love—unlike its collateral attitudes such as fear—could be predicated without presupposing the existence of the lover and the beloved alike. There is something wrong with our homiletic premisses. Love does not require the risk of not being loved in return. Or else, God is something other than love.

гнилое лицо

Люди участвуют в обществе в факультативном порядке. В меру своего участия, они открывают, изучают и усваивают не только нравственные правила, но и более требовательные правила вежливости. Все эти процессы они осуществляют не столько личными усилиями, сколько путём взаимодействия. Вежливость—это ключ к соборности. Если вежливость более требовательна, чем нравственность, то нравственность более требовательна, чем законность. Если законность запрещает человеку сбрасывать обнажённую женщину с моста, то нравственность призывает его вытащить её из воды, а вежливость отворачивает его плотоядный взгляд от её влажного лобка. Continue reading гнилое лицо


Вследствие принципа Коперника, рядовое положение человека во Вселенной не может быть уникальным. Соответственно, во Вселенной должно иметься множество разумов с аналогичными возможностями, и ничто не могло препятствовать зарождению и развитию сверхчеловеческого разума в других местах Вселенной. Согласимся условно отождествить носителя наиболее продвинутого разума с Богом, не пренебрегая возможностью существования множества равно развитых божественных сверхразумов. Иными словами, по принципу усреднения, человеческий разум наивероятнее всего занимает статистически посредственное место в интеллектуальном диапазоне, простирающемся от прионов до богов. Переформулировав рассуждения Ника Бострома, мы приходим к следующим вариантам, из которых по крайней мере один осуществляется в действительности:

  1. Весьма вероятно, что вселенское развитие разума прекратится, не достигнув божественной стадии.
  2. Очень маловероятно, что какая-либо божественная цивилизация займётся самовластной симуляцией её собственной эволюционной истории или её возможных но неосуществившихся вариантов.
  3. Человеческий разум почти наверняка внедрён в божественное провидение и находится в полной зависимости от его самовластия.

Первый вариант исключается принципом изобилия, в то время, как второй вариант противоречит вездесущей назойливости, особенно наблюдаемой среди прожжённых умников. Остаётся лишь вариант окказионализма, предполагающего непрерывное сверхъестественное вмешательство во все человеческие действия.

Помещается в журналы [info]larvatus и [info]ru_philosophy.

‎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.