Seven fun things to do with surgery

1. Replace the testicles of a wealthy patient with your own. When he gets around to siring an heir, it will be with your jizz, which means that, when the time is right, you can sweep in and claim the child as your own. Don’t worry about actually taking care of the bastard. The parents’ll settle.
2. Cauterize Leninist slogans on the livers of plutocrats. Alternatively, cauterize Burkean aphorisms on the kidneys of progressives.
3. Graft one of your testicles onto the reproductive apparatus of an attractive female patient. It will be like you’re having sex with her ALL THE TIME. The downside: it will mean you’re half faggot.
4. Leave all sorts of small candies and toys in the cavity for the next surgeon.
5. Cut the corpus callosum. Y’know, as a goof.
6. Grow an eyeball in the back of a rat and transplant it into the navel of an attractive patient, or anyone else you might like to keep — an eye — on.
7. Four words: twelve bladders, one man.

You let anybody jump on your brother again,
and you just stand and watch –
Boy,
I’ll beat you to death!

I don’t care who started what,
or whether he was winning or losing –
Boy,
you getta stick or — or — or –
a goddamn brick –
or anything
to kick the shit
out of anyone
who be fighting
your brother.

Cuz if anything was to happen
to me or your mother,
you ain’t got nobody
*except* your brother.

And this goes for him, too.

You’re the one
who keeps coming up
with this off-the-wall bullshit
bout how
“Henry started it!”

If the sunuvabitch’s too big,
then you come get me.

You not a child anymore –
you soon be a goddamn man!
Now –
start learning what life is about
now,
Son.

– from Killer of Sheep, Charles Burnett

An heuristic device for your pleasure and convenience

It’s all very simple. Nietzsche is basically just Hume read back through Kant. Freud is Kant read back through Nietzsche. Heidegger, similarly, is Hegel read back through Nietzsche. Derrida is Freud read back through Heidegger, or possibly through Sartre, who’s Descartes read back through Heidegger, but fuck that noise.  In other words, Derrida, who is regarded by just about everyone — with very very very few few few exceptions — as the moist swollen membrane of the Western Philosophical Tradition, is best thought of as Kant read back through Hume read back through Kant, which reading-back is all the time being read back through Aristotle being read back through Kant read back through Hume as he’s being read back through Kant. Kant, of course, is just Descartes read back through Hume. So, in terms of Humes and Descarteses, which are the basic currency of all modern thought, Derrida is little more than Descartes-through-Hume having been read back through Hume  being read back through Descartes-through-Hume, as that reading-back is itself read back  through Aristotle (mostly benzene, it turns out, and benzene derivatives), as he’s read back through Descartes-through-Hume, being read back through Hume read back through Descartes-through-Hume.  The final equation, therefore, is this: Derrida + energy -> 6 Hume + 4 Descartes + benzene. It goes without saying Derrida is endergonic. How endergonic — why, that’s up to you.

“You’ll be sorry!” he called, red-cheeked and breathless, as they climbed smug into their luxury sedan. “You’ll be sorry for what you’ve done! — to me, first of all, but also to little Suzie! You’ll regret everything, I promise you. I promise you, do you hear me? I promise you! This is not the last you’ve heard of Kevin Totenlieder!”  This, however, would be the last they would ever hear of Kevin Totenlieder. They never saw him again. They would soon forget all about him and little Suzie, to say nothing of what they’d done. Also, they would never be sorry. You just can’t trust Kevin Totenlieder to know about these things.

It should be commonly understood by now that one has talent only as one is unwilling to use it. Mitchell “Mitch” Capoclaque, accordingly, is talented. In fact, he’s the most talented man I know. He is, not to put too fine a point on it, dead.

This is the — This is the way the — This is — This is the way the world — not with a — not with — not with a bang, but — but a — a — This is the way — This —

A man walked into a bar and farted. You would’ve had to’ve been there.

An extract from the private journal of AA Cooper, 3rd Earl of Shaftesbury:

- May 15, 1695:  If, whilst I am, I am but as I should be, what do I care more?
- May 16, 1695:  If, whilst I am, I am but as I should be, what do I care more?
- May 17, 1695:  If, whilst I am, I am but as I should be, what do I care more?
- May 18, 1695:  If, whilst I am, I am but as I should be, what do I care more?
- May 19, 1695:  If, whilst I am, I am but as I should be, what do I care more?

Polonius:  What do you read, my Lord?

Hamlet:  Words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words,words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words,words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words,words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words,words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words,words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words, words [and so on...]

Tu conversus vivificabis nos.