Tuesday, May 02, 2006
(12:14 AM) | Anonymous:
Tuesday Hatred: Hatred, Hatreds, Hateful
Despite having gotten roughly eight hours of sleep Sunday night and Monday morning, I was completely tired almost all day Monday. Indeed, I have not yet managed to shake the lethargy that so drained me. As a result, I experienced hatred; hatred of tiredness. Another result was that I was "not my best" for class today, nor for the reception of the ideas contained in what I (attempted to) read. (I am however amused that the inclusion or omission of the parenthetical in the preceding sentence changes the tense and pronunciation of "read".) I hate that I was unable to comprehend as I might otherwise have been able to works by such authors as Robert Brandom, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Harry Frankfurt, and Michael Bratman.I hate that I've been incredibly forgetful lately. I hate that I've been unable to recall the names of such persons as Virginia Postrel, Edith Piaf, and others whom I can neither name nor describe, the descriptions having also been forgotten, along with the circumstances in which, guided by the descriptions, I felt called on to remember the names.
I hate blog posts whose titles give a misleading impression of the time at which they were primarily composed or posted. I still hate some things I've hated before: chief among them are Hegel (or rather, the peculiar sense of swimming through something extremely viscous, and the corresponding feeling of internal inspissation, that reading the Phenomenology is giving me—on the upside, I guess I'll be able to recognize and enjoy Kierkegaard's shots at him more in the future) and being single.
I hate that, by dint of my servitude to my cruel master, Kotsko, I am obligated to express myself negatively, even though actually I've got a lot to be pleased about this week. Fortunately, I have recently learned that I have only to become wholehearted in my servitude to become fully autonomous (this may be a traduction of at least two different positions, depending on how one interprets it).
Post odium res omnibus animalibus amandae sunt.
Update: I hate everything about this post, and am now possessed of a desire to stomp on Michael Anderson's head with hob-nailed boots (which I also newly desire). Do people not understand that animal fat is delicious? That it is, in fact, useful in making sausages, pie crusts, confits of all sorts, etc? (And if we include butter, which at first I hadn't even been thinking of, we can truthfully say that animal fat is used in almost every food that tastes good.) Of course, anyone who would find the idea of vegan tarts compelling is probably too far gone to appreciate the idiocy of a general ban on lard [1]. (I also wonder if "savory" in the blog post there is meant to indicate that the tarts aren't sweet, or is just a term tossed out because it sounds praiseworthy. I admit I have no particular reason to think it's the latter, but I still prefer to think that way, because such ignorance would be in keeping with a mind who can't think of one good thing about sweet sweet lard. "Oh! It's so … savory!" Go choke on a bucket of vegan cocks, says I.) I also hate that this place is styling itself a "European market". Even if it is, it shouldn't call itself that. There's an excellent, excellent store in Mountain View, The Milk Pail, whose sign (pictured in the website, which also contains the really odious introductory text "You’re not part of the “herd”, you’re a Silicon Free Spirit. You’ve had it with the boring safe chain stores …") advertises itself as a "European market". I cringe every time I see it. Just be yourself, store! Europe isn't some magical realm of value across the pond that can bestow meaningfulness on your store. The text quoted in the parenthesis a few sentences back is even worse—if it weren't for the fact that it actually is a good store I'd be temptd to boycott it just for that disgusting shit. Of course if it weren't good a boycott wouldn't really be meaningful, would it? A vexing problem. Chicago, for what it's worth, already has a local grocery store chain, whose name I cannot recall, which advertises itself as something ridiculous, like the city's most European supermarket. Which makes even more explicit that "European" here is mostly contentless rah-rahing, as my (admittedly not exactly wide) experience with supermarkets in Europe has led me to believe that they're distinctly unimpressive. Probably because they're a pretty American institution.
Update 2: I hate deceptive naming practices when applied to bills. In fact, I hate descriptive names generally, whether deceptive or not. Lichtenberg, as ever, has caused me to think this way. (Needless to say I'm no fan of the content of the bill either, but its naming it what it's named is like treading on someone's gouty foot.)
1. I don't hate vegans! Honest.
