cafolini
10-17-2011, 05:43 PM
I had just arrived to this world and was trying to learn how to walk. I’m not going to tell you where because I never grew to know it exactly. I try to be the least esoteric in my expression, seldom wanting to know more than it is possible. Clearly, to know more than it is possible is not the same as understanding it, which includes imbecility and its why.
I was surprised by a group of dingoes that told me that there was one truth and that all other truths had to be destroyed by biting in whichever possible way. They spoke of several examples, but as far as I could see there was always one more that needed to be finished. They argue, however, that they could get rid of all except the one they had in mind.
Finally they tired of giving samples and killing, and landed in a cave. There they thought and planned for some time. When they came out I was already waiting with a dumb face and making incoherent gestures. I thought it could be possible that they would want to find me an occupation within their ranks and decide to recruit me. I was afraid, but I lived through that. If I didn’t play handicapped I probably would have had to lose my fear and end up dingo. It is not the same to act like an imbecile as it is to become one and start mentally killing truths. And as I was doing my act, the idea went by in my mind that perhaps to lose my fear would result in losing my shame.
This time they had changed their premise and they were discussing a hierarchy of ten truths that deserved to live while all the others should be killed. They were about to tell me but they realized my state, which was in fact the truth of my lies. So they proceeded to destroy truths and skipped drafting me. They were unable to see the secrets in my eyes. Naturally, for an idiot like myself, there were always ten more truths, no matter how many they maimed. But it seemed that the dingoes needed desperately to prove it. So they kept performing their duties without hesitation. The wild dogs had their day.
I heard them speak of the virtue of each dingo in defending their cultural truths with their attacking phalanges. How these true imbeciles could have come to the conclusion that lies killing thousands of truths were preferable to the understanding of life with its infinite number of truths and lies was beyond me. Nonetheless I decided to bypass the idea that I could be the actual imbecile, exactly as the act I was putting on before them to avoid recruitment.
When they tired of killing they went back to the cave. I stayed where I had been learning to walk, learned some more, improving my act, because I suspected that with time they would come back to entertain me some more. And it happened. Of course, I enjoyed life in that place, which seemed to me good grounds in spite of a few perils I had to manage.
When they marched out of the cave they were far more organized. They had specialists for different functions. They didn’t talk to me because they were very aware of my idiotic pose. But they manifested among themselves that they had erred in the first attempts because of not being able to understand how difficult it would be to grasp the essential one-hundred truths necessary for the task. At that very moment, they had begun to realize that to use the essential truths they needed organization and specialization. To align one hundred essential truths for war would not be easy. So they went back to the cave to do some more thinking, planning and training. But still there was among many other things something they were unable to get.
When they came out for the last time, well prepared for the mother of all wars, they had disturbed so many truths during the previous episodes that the latter had already organized themselves defensively, and were prepared to fight without suffering much damage; they had bathed in Teflon. Each dingo that jumped on them slipped frictionless and fell to the ground head first, biting the dust.
The flying dust was intense for many decades. The rock band Queens, although a little late, paid homage to the earlier period with a special line: another one bites the dust.
Nietzsche had already made Zarathustra speak about the sorrowful dogs, which he called overripe figs biting the dust as they fell from their ancient trees. But it had to happen with the invention of Teflon.
I was surprised by a group of dingoes that told me that there was one truth and that all other truths had to be destroyed by biting in whichever possible way. They spoke of several examples, but as far as I could see there was always one more that needed to be finished. They argue, however, that they could get rid of all except the one they had in mind.
Finally they tired of giving samples and killing, and landed in a cave. There they thought and planned for some time. When they came out I was already waiting with a dumb face and making incoherent gestures. I thought it could be possible that they would want to find me an occupation within their ranks and decide to recruit me. I was afraid, but I lived through that. If I didn’t play handicapped I probably would have had to lose my fear and end up dingo. It is not the same to act like an imbecile as it is to become one and start mentally killing truths. And as I was doing my act, the idea went by in my mind that perhaps to lose my fear would result in losing my shame.
This time they had changed their premise and they were discussing a hierarchy of ten truths that deserved to live while all the others should be killed. They were about to tell me but they realized my state, which was in fact the truth of my lies. So they proceeded to destroy truths and skipped drafting me. They were unable to see the secrets in my eyes. Naturally, for an idiot like myself, there were always ten more truths, no matter how many they maimed. But it seemed that the dingoes needed desperately to prove it. So they kept performing their duties without hesitation. The wild dogs had their day.
I heard them speak of the virtue of each dingo in defending their cultural truths with their attacking phalanges. How these true imbeciles could have come to the conclusion that lies killing thousands of truths were preferable to the understanding of life with its infinite number of truths and lies was beyond me. Nonetheless I decided to bypass the idea that I could be the actual imbecile, exactly as the act I was putting on before them to avoid recruitment.
When they tired of killing they went back to the cave. I stayed where I had been learning to walk, learned some more, improving my act, because I suspected that with time they would come back to entertain me some more. And it happened. Of course, I enjoyed life in that place, which seemed to me good grounds in spite of a few perils I had to manage.
When they marched out of the cave they were far more organized. They had specialists for different functions. They didn’t talk to me because they were very aware of my idiotic pose. But they manifested among themselves that they had erred in the first attempts because of not being able to understand how difficult it would be to grasp the essential one-hundred truths necessary for the task. At that very moment, they had begun to realize that to use the essential truths they needed organization and specialization. To align one hundred essential truths for war would not be easy. So they went back to the cave to do some more thinking, planning and training. But still there was among many other things something they were unable to get.
When they came out for the last time, well prepared for the mother of all wars, they had disturbed so many truths during the previous episodes that the latter had already organized themselves defensively, and were prepared to fight without suffering much damage; they had bathed in Teflon. Each dingo that jumped on them slipped frictionless and fell to the ground head first, biting the dust.
The flying dust was intense for many decades. The rock band Queens, although a little late, paid homage to the earlier period with a special line: another one bites the dust.
Nietzsche had already made Zarathustra speak about the sorrowful dogs, which he called overripe figs biting the dust as they fell from their ancient trees. But it had to happen with the invention of Teflon.