Thursday, October 8, 2009

Les précieuses ridicules et les bourgeois gentilhommes d’Internet

I never spoke to monsieur Poquelin face to face, and yet i’m certain he would roll over in his grave from laughing, the moment he would lay eyes on this blog. Like me, he loves to ridicule and mock the ones whose beliefs, wants, and behavior, r so determined and predestined by their cultural settings, that they only can pretend to be, or to become, someone they’ll never be. Not that these people would ever acknowledge this, oh no. They take themselves very seriously, convinced they’re examples of virtue, pillars of society, and carriers of culture. Of cors, they’re the ones with completely open minds, and an unequalled zest to rigidly embrace, absorb and support, rusty new ideas ad infinitum… ………till their brain falls out from their ignorant moron skulls. One of their greater assets, is to contaminate their environment with clichés and plagiarism in the politest of ways, and overflowing from slimy love for their willing audiences.

Take for instance the ones so close to us, i.e. the ones residing on our friends list of the ever expanding virtual social networks. In short: our friends. Not that all of them really would be friends eh? But then again, who would dare to define friendship? Well……..they do. Oh yes. True seekers for the ultimate definition, that’s what these champions of morality r. With a never ending stream of hollow and empty words, larded with the simplest of graphics, and an avalanche of windings, they come and tell us about true friendship, never ending love, absolute trust, real honesty, and sickening tolerance. Ad nauseam, they spam the place with sugar coated crap, stolen from other spammers, or so called love & hug poets. Without knowing the first thing about us, they never stop to declare their love for us, never cease to tell us they’ll always be there for us, and never refrain from winking, hugging, smiling, pinching, and stalking us on a daily basis, at times from hour to hour, sometimes unloading a bulk of hugs in one time, giving tribute to that immortal evergreen: ‘Oh oh oh oh, I’m the Great Pretender’.

Considering the endless complaints in Cyberspace about fakes & posers infesting our once pure cyber world, one should think, the good people would ignore, delete, and remove these creeps. But…….it seldom happens, as good people often happen to be true friends as well, joyfully spamming the place themselves, while happily exchanging sweet nothings with other members of the SpamClan. Heartwarming that, and a great escape from the grim reality at home.

It’s even worse! I met many citizens of Cyberia, who got a nervous breakdown, or an attack of diarrhea, once they discovered their true friends weren’t friends at all. The signs were there, the flags were up, the sweet breezes of hoax were preceding the storms of deception, and thundering voices were whispering: “He’s a liar, she’s not ur friend, she will abandon u, he will leave u to the sharks”. But why listen? Better deny what’s right in front of u, right? Then, blame the crooks ......…….. feel victimized, and in need to leave this immoral Valley of the Dolls , to recuperate far from Yahell’s Place, in an oxygen tank full of fresh air. Sneaking back in again later of cors, preferable with another exotic or trite alias, longing for some repeat business. Yep, a new trend in masochism is dawning, stimulated by the IT era. Rofl!

Then there r the Content Junkies. Not that they would add to the world’s knowledge databases, deliver intriguing questions, or shine from sparkling originality. They have better things to do. They want us to know about what’s boiling inside them. They feel like a volcano. They want to erupt. They want to share, share, share, not only with their true friends, but the world as a whole. But no drama eh? No, no, no, absolutely not. No drama! Not ever! Period!! What u say? Melodrama? Well, perhaps. But only if u tell them that they're growing, making progress in conquering their dark side, and that they r what they pretend to be. To exist, they need ur support, ur loyalty, ur unconditional love for their nonsense, and certainly not ur criticism. That’s what true friends r for no? So it is written, and so it is done.

Now and then, it itches me to go on a page like that. Of cors with only honorable intentions, and true curiosity, to find out about what’s cooking there. Often the blogs in ContentJunkieLand contain a lot of exploring, searching, and discovering of the True Self of its owner. Not that the owner would restrict him/herself to his/her own ego or stirrings of the soul. Come on. That would be selfish no? To be selfish, or egocentric in ContentJunkieLand, is against the rules, against holy protocol, and out of the question. To share, share, share, that’s what it’s all about in that country of milk and honey. And what is the best way to share? To generalize of cors, to give away freely what’s only urs, and to ram it down the throats of ur loyal supporters, who hungrily await to get back what they gave u. Dumping one generalization after another, yeah, that’s the thing to do! Claiming ur statements have universal value. Or not claiming that, but nevertheless creating the illusion that u do. Who cares? Well, i do. Me the minority. The truth? Logic? Discussion? Proof? Content? Hahahahaha! From what planet r u, asking stupid questions like that? It’s all about ego-tripping. Yep, that's what it is. It’s completely unimportant if people would read ur stuff or not, to grasp its essence, to know if it’s fiction, non-fiction, or plain garbage. The only thing that matters is sharing, feeling close to each other, even if that would be in the sewer.

Don’t ever dare to go on pages like that with the purpose of asking questions, and certainly not on those where ur presence could give the mispoche hanging out there, the idea u could be criticizing the sacred words of the queen (hmmm, or king) owner. The results will be devastating, even earth shattering, if not resetting the Earth’s axis. It will be no picnic, i tell u. And i can tell, as i went through minor disasters like that many times. Not that i would go out to criticize. Far from that. I’m not the type for that. Too civilized i guess. But….. just asking sweet and innocent questions, without any second agenda in sight, is already creating havoc, at times even making rookie white knights climbing their crippled horses, to revenge their angered virtual Dulcineas. And the owners themselves? Oh, it varies, lol. Some try to keep their cool, and lose it anyway. Some end up calling me names, curse me, or put a spell on me. I even had one, who sent me a Voodoo doctor. Others vanish from the face of the Earth. Some call their Mom. Or r they only pretending?

To conclude, here’s a nice one from another giant who loves to ridicule and mock the clones of society: Herr Heine.

Doch die Kastraten klagten,
Als ich meine Stimm' erhob;
Sie klagten und sie sagten:
Ich sänge viel zu grob.

Und lieblich erhoben sie alle
Die kleinen Stimmelein,
Die Trillerchen, wie Kristalle,
Sie klangen so fein und rein.

Sie sangen von Liebessehnen,
Von Liebe und Liebeserguß;
Die Damen schwammen in
Tränen Bei solchem Kunstgenuß.

What's that? U don’t understand German? What a shame. Consider criticizing me. Or beg me, to upload a translation.


  1. Oh, Ayesha... why did I not discover your blog earlier? I do not wish to flatter you with compliments, but I have to say that you put raw vinegar into my fruit-flavored salad dressing -- refreshing!

    It will take me some time to read through all your postings, but I have managed to skim a few, slowing down at some delicious streams, feeling drunk, dizzy and disoriented. You remind me that life is open-ended and the only rules are the ones we internalize; how easy it is for our slavish wants and needs to grab the reins of our virile autonomy.

    I wish I could criticize, but for the time being you have me thinking. Feel like I sat down the board mid-way through the chess game. Need to appraise the landscape...

  2. Very well said. But, once settled criticize, (grin).

  3. Frau Dr. Fonseca, könnten Sie bitte eine englische Übersetzung zur Verfügung stellen? Von dieser Gedicht? Ich... hrm!... bitte Sie. Arfgh!

  4. Aber warum den Herr Fuchs. Wie ich sehe sprechen sie ja ein schönes wördchen Deutsch. Geben sie sich einfach doch ein bisschen mehr Mühe.Ich bin mir sicher auch Herr Heine würde sich darüber freuen.

  5. He-he, "Herr Fuchs" ... Here's more fun: My head was about to give in, and my eyes were bleeding, from the hours of intense effort it took just to concoct that %@# phrase. I have zero knowledge - Not a word do I speak.

    And this my begging effort earned me nothing but another solid dose of the same!!!

    But OK, I certainly asked for it. Here we go:

    Heine and the German language? Hm... What do you REALLY think would be his feelings if he knew? And shouldn't THEY feel a bit ill at ease around him? He told them about the burning, and they went on and did it anyway.

  6. Hmmm, difficult to say, as like it is with monsieur Poquelin, i never had the opportunity to converse with Herr Heine about stuff like this. But having read some of his works, he probably would have advised u to take some French courses, and also, to sooth ur pain, would have given u the following:

    Regarding ur second question, u probably were referring to the following, isn't it?

    When a Qur’an was burnt in Heine's play "Almansor", Heine let one of the players say: " Das war Vorspiel nur. Dort, wo man Bücher verbrennt, verbrennt man am Ende auch Menschen." loosely translated for ur convenience to, "That was mere foreplay. Where they burn books, at the end they also burn people"

    So sure they felt, and pssssst...... still feel, "a bit ill at ease", no matter all the honor he has received in later years.

    My tip to u? When it comes to fascism/(neo)nazism and its foul smelling allied brethren, keep ur alert levels in the red, as they're only waiting for the ultra right(!) moment to crawl out of their sewers, and continue their filthy actions on an even larger scale!

  7. I followed your link, and from there I went on further, educating myself on the subject of that German siren, the poetry and the music. Today I am a little more cultured man.

    That is, if having knowledge about about culture were the same as having culture, ha-ha! But as you well know: In the land of the blind, he who CLAIMS to have one eye... People are indeed so easily deceived - They will let me into their salons, they will even let me talk to their daughters...

    The human waste you are referring to at the end of your reply, I see them every day. THEY don't even know it yet, but I can see it in them. When the call comes, I know the direction they will take.

    To soothe pain, there is nothing like morphine invented yet. To remove it, only death.

  8. "....there is nothing like....". U would be surprised, but my whip can do the job too.

    Who told u, there will be no pain in the Afterlife?

    "They will let me into their.....". U know, sometimes i like to allow people into my residence, i mean just like that, freely so to speak. But then.....when they want to leave again, yes at that becomes quite a different story, hahahaha!

  9. Yes I believe I could well be in for some surprises, were I to be found one day in front of you and your whip. It's an intriguing thought, to say the least. What would be the result? I've no idea. Maybe not so glorious for me... Anyway, it would DEFINITELY be something of an experience, as I have not considered bullwhipping something I would like to go through. Are you corrupting me, Ms. Fonseca!?! (Severe voice)

    Ah, daydreams. Back to Earth: I see no evil. In fact, why would you want to have my hide? You would find it far too vanilla-tasting, ha-ha!

    But wait. Are we not a bit off topic here? Although of course you, your different sides, your blogs, is one coherent thing when all put together (is it?). Although everything is Ayesha, without rigid divisions, wouldn't this be better discussed when you'll publish your essay about you and your whips?

  10. There is an essay about me and my whips? Oh my! Where?

  11. OK, I get it. As if I didn't know. The lady does not take requests.