HAROLD GINN

La filosofia morta

It has lately come to my attention that in certain quarters of academia a

cadre of whining crybabies is bemoaning what they perceive as a lack of
emphasis on the humanities in higher educational curiculae and they
attribute this to the subversive influence of corporate good will. As a
concerned Republican Ive decided that it is incumbent upon me to
determine whether or not there is any substance to these baseless allegations.
Firstly, Ive deduced that it would be helpful to learn something about the
humanities and so Ive recently taken up the study of philosophy. What is
philosophy and how do we know when were having it? What is a
philosopher? As far as Ive been able to ascertain, philosophers are a lot like
think tank guys from places like the Cato Institute or the Rand Corporation.
Theyre mostly white guys in their late 50s who have no place else to go so
you give them a room with a window and a desk and they just sit around all
day and think about stuff; the difference being, think tank guys think about
important stuff like how to get people to spend more time watching televised
sports, and then they write up a little report and send it to some billionaires
who then sit around and think about how the data might be used to develop
more sophisticated techniques of social control. We dont tell think tank
guys how to spend their time and they dont take up valuable classroom time
in our nations universities so why should philosophers be allowed to do so?
In the interest of fairness Ive made note of some of historys most notable
philosophers and given careful consideration to some of their most notable
quotes that I now offer for your consternation.
Lets start with some low-hanging fruit and then work our way further up
the ladder of historic philosophical bloviators. So how about this guy Baruch
Spinoza? He lived in the 17 th century and was a contemporary of Descartes,
Locke and Galileo. Lets take a moment to try and digest some of his witty
aphorisms. Below, in bold italic, are a few, along with my carefully reasoned
responses.

Do not weep; do not wax indignant. Understand.

Thats easy for you to say, you schmendrick, youre a philosopher.
All things excellent are as difficult as they are rare.
Yes, theyre rare because theyre difficult. If excellent things werent
difficult then everybody would be doing them and then everything would be
excellent but then there would be no standard of measure or basis for
comparison. We would come to regard everything as being just pretty good
or ok. Then we would have to deal with ennui. The big question for a hot
shot philosopher like you, Spinoza, would be: what do I do about this all
consuming sense of ennui? Should I reread Principia Philosopiae, should I
take a vacation in the south of France, should I write up a bunch more of my
own howdy-doody philsophy and then go out an try to get laid? And yeah,
youll try all of that stuff but to no avail. And then what? Trying to
understand ennui will probably be your last-ditch effort. In abject
desperation you will attempt to get to the metaphysical essence of that
wretched state of being but again, no luck. Buy yourself some golf clubs
and give up.
I have striven not to laugh at human actions, not to weep at them, nor to
hate them, but to understand them.
Again with the understanding. Well thats a noble ideal. We should all try
to understand the actions of our fellow humans but lets be smart about it.
Sometimes its important to understand that understanding is pointless and
you just need to get those dumb pricks out of your life before they do you
real damage.
To give aid to every poor man is far beyond the reach and power of every
man. Care of the poor is incumbent on society as a whole.
Are you referring to yourself? You are, arent you? People like you are
always looking to suck on the public boob. Is it my imagination or are all
you philosophers a bunch of socialist? What else could you be? Your whole
existence depends on the largess of the public domain. How else could you
survive doing nothing but sitting around all day, staring out of a window,
smoking a pipe, and thinking about neutral monism. Youve got some major
nerve, thinking about neutral monism.
The world would be happier if men had the same capacity to be silent that
they have to speak.

You are certainly living proof of that maxim. Well anyway, you were
living proof.
One and the same thing can at the same time be good, bad, and
indifferent, e.g., music is good to the melancholy, bad to those who mourn,
and neither good nor bad to the deaf.
Im told that the deaf actually are big fans of heavy metal music. Its
because they can feel the bass and drums in their tympanic membrane or
something like that. I once asked a deaf guy who his favorite heavy metal
band was but he didnt answer me so then I told him that he had a spot on
his forehead that looked exactly like a spot I once had on my forehead that
turned out to be skin cancer. I just wanted to see if he was really deaf or just
messing with me.
All happiness or unhappiness solely depends upon the quality of the object
to which we are attached by love.
Are you objectifying women? How dare you. Love? I love good bourbon.
It makes me both happy and unhappy. Im happy when Im drinking it and
unhappy when Im not. When I sit in my apartment for days on end,
drinking bourbon and watching reruns of Law & Order Im happy. When
the withdrawals start, Im unhappy. What is modern man to do? Winston
Churchill, Ernest Hemingway and Christopher Hitchens are all invited to
weigh in here.
All noble things are as difficult as they are rare.
Of course all noble things are difficult and rare because theyre excellent
and Spinoza already stated that excellent things are difficult and rare. I think
that guy just liked to blabber, but nevermind.
I did a noble thing the other day. It happened early one chilly morning as
I was walking down the street trying to gather myself together and face the
dawn after a long evening of excess. Yes, I was suffering the ill effects of
too much heaven the night before. My mouth was dry, my thoughts in
disarray and I had the most horrific headache. I kept thinking, why must I
suffer this torment? Why does my head betray me? and I tell you, I was
feeling so sorry for myself until I met a man who had no head. He was
standing alone, looking like maybe he could use a hand. I said to him,
excuse me, man, but wheres your head? Maybe I can help. Well of course,
not having a head he couldnt respond but I think you see my point. Even in
the simplest act of giving, we all gain something.

True virtue is life under the direction of reason.

At least once a week, let us employ reason in the expedition of our personal
goals. This week my formidable powers of reasoning tell me that my goal
for the week should be to stay at home, drink bourbon and watch reruns of
Law & Order.
Those who are believed to be most abject and humble are usually most
ambitious and envious.
Well, no one has ever accused me of displaying either abjection or
humility, nor ambition or envy so I dont know, maybe Im just a regular
guy. In post-war America, being a regular guy was a real point of pride. It
was pretty much de rigueur for main stream American males but now, if you
let on that youre in any way concerned with fitting in or being like
everyone else, then youre just some little dippy-doo and people regard you
with derisive snickering (and yeah, its snickering, not sniggering (thats
racist)). In reality, people are now just as obsessed with fitting in as they
ever were in the 50s but the difference is now no one is willing to
acknowledge it like with sex in Victorian England.
On that fecund note, let me point out that, these days, any discussion of
sex is complicated by the high degree of confusion over the question of what
sex really is. What is sex and how do we know when were having it?
Theres all kinds of activities that people call sex. Theres hetero sex, theres
gay cowboy sex (currently popular), theres MTV sex, theres Victorias
Secret sex involving all manner of lingerie and paraphernalia, ointments and
scented candles, hoists and pulleys; personally I dont care for all that stuff.
When it comes to sex, Im pretty much a meat and potatoes kind of guy.
Theres NYC performance art sex and maybe thats not really even sex at all.
To illuminate the complexity of the issue lets confabulate with my personal
assistant, a former NYC performance artist and two-time winner of the
coveted Dillystretch Award, Miss Sunshine Obalofsky, whom I will now
contact via my brand new Android meat powered smart phone.
FOGG
Good morning Sunshine.
SUNSHINE
Good morning Martin.

FOGG
Heres my question: If I were to run fishhooks
through my ears, put on yellow rubber gloves,
set myself on fire and lick your arm pits,
would we be having sex?
SUNSHINE
Why yes, Martin, wed be having really hot sex.
FOGG
Well you see, there you go, I disagree.

SUNSHINE
Awwwww
FOGG
Thank you, darling.
SUNSHINE
Bye, Martin.

Whatever your definition includes, its just a simple fact that a satisfying
love life requires energy. Lots and lots of energy makes for a more
refulgent experience but alas when a man reaches a certain age he finds
that energy to be increasingly elusive. Knowing this, I recently set out
upon a quest to resolve this timeless dilemma once and for all and so I
traveled afar to unlock the mysteries of the Orient and rediscover the
wisdom of the ancients. Im happy to say that today I will share their
secret with you, my fellow men and here it is; the secret is hamster
juice. Its made in Taiwan and comes in handy little 6 oz cans that you
can carry around in your pocket. Now you animal rights psychopaths
neednt worry, its not made from crushed rodents. Its actually a rare
blend of exotic herbal stimulants and secret proprietary ingredients that
was developed specifically for hamsters but Ive discovered that it works
great for guys as well.

If you want the present to be different from the past, study the past.
Ive learned a great deal from my studies of Western history. Well get to
that on another day.
Peace is not an absence of war, it is a virtue, a state of mind, a disposition
for benevolence, confidence, justice.
This has the ring of advice given by someone who can comfortably
relocate to another country if need be.
It may easily come to pass that a vain man may become proud and
imagine himself pleasing to all when he is in reality a universal nuisance.
Im not vain and I have never imagined myself to be pleasing to all yet
still I manage to be a universal nuisance. How does that work? Is it inate
talent? Is it a gift from God? I mean, its effortless. I dont try to be a
nuisance, it just turns out that way. People are always getting annoyed with
me. Sometimes it hurts because I want most people to like me. Am I being
needy? Arent most people that way? Not that I care about how most
people are, I dont, but still it seems like kind of a natural mind set, right?
Well ok, not for everyone, obviously. Certainly not for G.G. Allen*. He
enjoyed being hated and was by all accounts very good at it but he ended up
committing suicide. I, on the other hand, do not want to commit suicide.
G.G. and I are very different in that way.

*G. G. Allen was sort of 80s grunge/punk shock rocker and he really knew
how to test the boundarys of propriety and good taste. One of his best loved
artistic conceits was to come on stage in his underwear, sing a couple of
tunes (to get the crowd warmed up) and then take a dump on the stage and
then run around throwing shit on various members of the audience. Imagine
their discomfiture. There was no guarantee that Allen would carry a given
performance to this ordurous extreme but it was understood that one could
not discount the possibility and so this provocative gambit always gave a
sort of wildcard feel to his shows.
The endeavor to understand is the first and only basis of virtue.
Again with the understanding, eh? Ok, but lets be specific. Exactly what
is it that I must endeavor to understand? Everything? Good luck with that.
Let me tell you what I understand. I understand that life is a meatgrinder. A
very cleverly disguised meatgrinder. And were the meat.
Nothing in the universe is contingent, but all things are conditioned to
exist and operate in a particular manner by the necessity of the divine
nature.
Ok, five minutes of trying to grasp the essence of the divine nature and
quite frankly, Im under the table so lets aim a little lower.
Whatsoever is contrary to nature is contrary to reason, and whatsoever is
contrary to reason is absurd.
What are you, a tree hugger?
Whatsoever is, is in God, and without God nothing can be, or be
conceived.
Honestly, I expect better than this from someone who purports to be a
world class philosopher. Whatever is what? What are you talking
about? How about we let God weigh in on this one. Ok hello? Earth to
God come in God. Huh? What? Oh well, nevermind.
Ok, lets make no mistake here, I am a deeply religious man but I imagine
a supreme entity thats not so much a god as a benevolent godlike presence,
like Bank of America or Monsanto. Let it be stated for the record that this
conception of a supreme entity is somewhat at odds with the conventional
wisdom (held by many of my fellow Republicans) which envisages a god
who is pretty much just like the rest of us except that he has super powers
and created the entire universe. Oh, and did I forget to mention that hes a
male and extremely old? This means he prolly has ear hair and uses a lot of

Viagra. Now does that really sound right to you? When talking about God,
heres something we should all bear in mind. Even if there is such a god
(which there isnt) but even if there is, does it really make sense to assume
that this is a god with whom we could actually have meaningful
communication? We are talking about a guy who was capable of creating
space and time from from what? Who the hell knows from what? My
point is, do you really think that such a being would have anything at all in
common with us? Hey Spinoza, Ill bet good money that your hoity-toity
philosophizing brain cant even grok a fourth spacial dimension. Go ahead
and try it. Give up? Of course you do. And you think you can know the mind
of a god who created this universe? Nice try, Boopy. Can an ant know the
mind of the entomologist? I rest my case.
Well I see that its almost cocktail hour so thats enough for today.
Class dismissed.
Next week: Bertrand Russell