From: GEVANS613-AT-aol.com Date: Sun, 4 May 2003 13:11:40 EDT Subject: Thus Sobbed Zarathustra --part1_1a6.141debb8.2be6a3cc_boundary Content-Language: en Jud: For "townspeople" read the unspiritual, hard-nosed "un-getting-it ones," as in Heidegger-tok-tok for "cosmopolitan" read "Jews" I suppose? I suspect that for the "ungetting-it-ones" the whole idea of the zany Zarathustra/Sartrean-figure or hateful hutted Heidegger - the dishevelled, unshaven, lonely, longing-for-love introspective, Platonical pain-in-the-arse know-it-all with the bunglesome social skills, and the history of alcohol or drug or religious abuse, and the pressed dark-suit in the wardrobe ready for matter-of-fact Monday, and the stained teeth and the deep set eyes, (perceived by the modern Zarathustra's "townspeople" not as the romantic result of sleepless nights of creative, tortured introspection, but from serial and unreflective masturbation powered by schnapps,) is now viewed as=20a figure of entertainment, or as a vaguely threatening, sinister latter-day atavism from the philosophical nihilistic night of Nazism inherited and engrafted onto the self concern of the cognitively clapped-out sixties? Likewise the Pal Joey Sinatra clone in the Strand Cigarette adverts ["You are never alone with a Strand,"], which was shown on British TV last night in a retrospective of the "classics" of commercial advertising over the years. We see once more the white-raincoated, floppy-trilbied, gaunt, lonely and mysterious existentialist as he walks down post-modernist pavements glistening with dog-shit in the rain, or stands bathed in yellow sodium light, puffing a drooping dog-end in the drizzle beneath a lamppost, before dematerialising behind the portieres of a swirl of fog - a daedal moir=C3=A9 of muted neon. "Where has he gone? We wonder. "What lonely, learned and lettered knowing, painful, existential solitudinarian Shangri-la-la-land has swallowed him up? There is a frisson of violins and the lonely Larry Adlerian harmonica hefts the curtain of possibility concealing the ever-present promise of poignant phaneromanic passion. Who knows what esoteric encounters Homme De Monsieur Seul will experience in the Rive Gauche estaminets full of prattling Gauloise-smoking existentialists in identical white raincoats and run-on sentences? Shouts of =E2=80=9CAuthenticit=C3=A9! "and, =E2=80=9CComportment vers la mort!=E2=80=9D ring out - only punctuated by the rattle of coffee cups and abandoned needles that lie amongst the empty absinthe glasses. The advert was one of the biggest flops in the history of advertising. People don't like loneliness and don't like to see self-obsession that borders on the ridiculous. They remembered the music but not the product. Such self-obsessed, lonely individuals condescending to descend from their mountain top existentialist eyries with or without a cigarette in the corner of their mouths, trumpeting a will to power patently belied by their own shabby status and appearance no longer interest us. The concept is philosophical pass=C3=A9 passe partout. What we look for now is a streetwise rapping, dancing dreadlocked dude in Nike trainers and the latest mobile phone with a copy of the latest Neurophilosophy Magazine sticking out of his back pocket =E2=80=93 not some=20lonely Anglo loser or hermit from the Heimat with pressing ass and pons asinorum problems. Advertisers and Ad-men shun the notion of the lonely 'knowing-one,' for in these days of collective politiquement correct pedagogy, when even the son or daughter of a diurnally drunk drayman might have heard of Sartre. Pimply-faced " differentness" is scorned rather than looked up to as an inscrutable demeanour veiling the anguished mind of a poet of despair. To the modern mind such pustulate outsiders that flutter around the rubbish-strewn sidewalks of our cities are seen as threatening oddballs, whose silent withdrawnness more plausibly hides the mind of a be-drugged beggar or a pervert waiting to pounce, to physically abuse, to rob a few pounds to buy the next fix for his existential unfixity. You don=E2=80=99t have to have =E2=80=9Cbeen there=E2=80=9D or wear the experiential T-shirt to know what it must feel like and to think to be one of the rarefied ones =E2=80=93 the mountain people who abide above, and live with the eagles. The chosen altitudinal abode of existential relative spatial positionality gives the game away. From the heights of Bertgesgaten, from the position of the Hutte, that eagles nest knitted from Nietzsche=E2=80=99s eyebrows and Husserl=E2=80=99s hairnet - they look down upon the emmet-like townspeople below. Nowadays the descending proselytising Olympian is not received joyfully in the marketplace as the harbinger of hope. But rather excoriated in the Hypermarket as a weird Heideggerian Kaspar Hauser, a philosophical feral from the Heimat. BTW: A good model of the interior of Heidegger=E2=80=99s Hut can be seen at: <A HREF="http://www.nottingham.ac.uk/sbe/research/current.htm">http://www.nottingham.ac.uk/sbe/research/current.htm</A> TRAVEL INFORMATION. Das Nest Des Kuckuck. A measure of the way that this weird philosophical aberration from the past has been overtaken by the modern zeitgeist of an uncaring mammon can be witnessed if one pays a visit to the Heidegger Hut, built for him in 1923 using his doting [but later betrayed] wife=E2=80=99s money - it is now part=20of the ' McDonalds of Deutschland Memory Lane' chain. Faithful cultists and the merely inquisitive alike, are in for a shock when they see the commercialisation which has been allowed to take place by the unscrupulous local burgers and townspeople {all who live like Zarathustra=E2=80=99s villagers in the town below.] You can only travel to "Das Nest Des Kuckuck,=E2=80=9D as Heidegger=E2=80=99s Hutte is known by the locals, from mid May to mid October. The rest of the year the private road to the theologian=E2=80=99s theoretical thunderbox is blocked by snow. You catch the private bus to "Das Nest Des Kuckuck=E2=80=9D from outside the old Gestapo Headquarters at Freiburg am Esistgeradeinitz, which is opposite the =E2=80=9CHotel Germania Uber Alles=E2=80=9D in Ribbentrop Strasse. This is the only bus allowed up the mountain, [a genuine, preserved vintage Feldwebel green model from the Nazi period complete with swastika logo] and all the tour bus companies must use this vehicle. An English-speaking guide explains Heidegger's vital role as a Nazi organiser and activist, through a real Nazi public address system ( a camp relic) as your bus journeys up the mountain roads, and also speaks of the relationship between and his involvement with his 'hut' and his philosophy, especially his writings about 'dwelling' and 'place'. Visits to Hitler=E2=80=99s =E2=80=9CAdlerNest=E2=80=9D and Heidegger adjacent =E2=80=9CDas Nest Des Kuckuck=E2=80=9D can be booked at the Tourist Office, daily at 1:30). Once at the top you must book your return journey. Allow only an hour at the top unless you want to eat or go for a walk on the summit of Der Nietzsche Maulwurfshugel. Both Hitler=E2=80=99s =E2=80=9CAdlerNest=E2=80=9D and Heidegger adjacent =E2=80=9CDas Nest Des Kuckuck" are now restaurants, and varieties of delicious =E2=80=9CBlack Forest Cake=E2=80=9D=20can be eaten in " Die NeigungsRaum Delikatessen", Heidegger=E2=80=99s old bedroom, where the souls of the star-crossed lovers Heidegger and Arendt seem to peep down enraptured upon the diners from their position perched on the transcendence of the roof beams above. Be sure to take the transcendental elevator from the parking area to the top. You walk into the mountainside for about 40 meters (50 yds) and then the elevator goes straight up (transcendentally) into the Eagles Nest. It is possible to alight from the bus at the same bus-stop if you plan to visit Heidegger=E2=80=99s neighbour Hitler's Berg Hof (Mountain House) which is nearby. It is only a hundred yards from the Heidegger Hut, and is connected by an underground passage. You can see the Guard House that still stands there today. Take a look at the underground Bunker System (5DM) where Heidegger is said to have fled to join Hitler on the approach of the allies and shared a last ass-licking before the doomed Nazi leader removed himself to the Fuhrerbunker in Berlin. This will only take about 15 minutes. There is a sign, which says =E2=80=9CEntritt Verboten=E2=80=9D (No Entrance), but this is widely ignored). About 20 to 30 yards along the path you will see some of the retaining walls. The West German Government blew up the Berg Hof in 1953 after many protests from Martin Heidegger who was said to have taken three wheelbarrows full of bricks from the demolished building to construct a shrine to his hero in his study in the Hut. What were left of the ruins was removed in 1996. This was done so that it would not become a shrine to Hitler, but they were to slow to thwart the wily ontological sharp-operator from Marburg. Cheers, Jud. <A HREF="http://evans-experientialism.freewebspace.com/ ">http://evans-experientialism.freewebspace.com/</A> Jud Evans - ANALYTICAL INDICANT THEORY. <A HREF="http://uncouplingthecopula.freewebspace.com">http://uncouplingthecopula.freewebspace.com</A> --part1_1a6.141debb8.2be6a3cc_boundary
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