I am a contingent being; that which is not logically necessary, ie, something doesn’t have to be that way. This contingency is the fundamental ontological feature of existence.

Although the universe is uncreated and is not dependent on anything else for its being, its being is not necessary. That which exists without reason for being, cannot be derived from a necessary law. That which has no determinants or characteristics, this being cannot have the characteristic of being that which cannot not be. This being is, but it is unnecessary, and in being unnecessary, it is contingent. All existence exists for no reason and for no purpose.

Such intense awareness of existence is the terrifying apprehension of the utter contingency, absurdity, pointlessness, meaninglessness and futility of existence. This awareness belongs to a consciousness that has no being of its own and exists only as a relation to this contingency – a relation by negation. To experience this awareness is to experience a state of naked and superfluous existence that surrounds oneself and also with which one is continuous by virtue of one’s body. Society and all human activities attempt to overcome this fundamental contingency by imposing meanings and purposes on the world. This effort is brought about by naming and categorizing things. In doing so, people think they’ve made sense of it and ascribed meaning to it, grasping its essential essence and removed the contingency of this raw and nameless existence. But the cold and bitter truth is, things only have meaning and purpose relative to other things – words readily link a thing to other things through language – and the whole only has the relative meaning and purpose that our ultimately pointless activities give it. Independent of the system of instrumentality that defines them, or the framework of meaning that explains and justifies them, objects are, seen for what they are in themselves, incomprehensible, peculiar, strange, and even disturbing in their contingency. To be aware of contingency is to be aware of the unfathomable mystery of existence.

The typically suspicious claims of the cynic or conspiracy theorist only expose his rotten perspective of human nature. I was once told that even the act of thanks is suspect, for all gratitude is conditioned propaganda. If that is the case then nobody deserves thanks, because merit is impossible to determine, given the ugly taint of self-serving motives. It depends whether being publicly grateful is suspect because all praise is necessarily suspect. 

I agree with the Duke (La Rochefoucauld) that it is by the estimation of our feelings that we exaggerate the good qualities of others than by their merit and when we praise them we wish to attract their praise. Most people are shallow enough to be accused of secretly hoping for further favors in their gratitude. But this in no way means all gratitude is necessarily self-serving praise. This greatly underestimates certain individuals who may be magnaminous enough to appreciate a direct challenge to their thoughts, more so than mere confirmation of their convictions.

If I had a low opinion of people in general, then some of the charges of propaganda would stick. Then again…

[gratitude] may be not only the greatest of all virtues it is also their mother. - Cicero

The essence of all great art is gratitude - Nietzsche

We may never praise without a motive, for praise is flattery that gratifies differently him who praises and he who is praised. The one who takes it as the reward for merit and the other who bestows it to show his impartiality and knowledge.

That is true but gratitude is one of the least articulate of the emotions, especially when it is deep. - Frankfurter

The proud man is hardly a great man for thinks he never gets as much he deserves, but the Buddha says none of us have cause for anything except gratitude and joy. If criticism has survived far more insidious oppression elsewhere, then it can withstand even the horrors of praise, especially when it is in the form of gratitude.

The objectification of women is generally a problem of the Other in philosophy. Many philosophers, idealists and realists both, attempt to generate the Other from the self or began their analysis by assuming the existence of the alter ego. The former tries to erect an epistemological bridge from consciousness to consciousness, and the latter tries to assert that one consciousness is already “in touch” with another within the social reality of human existence.

But either way leads to an impasse because they are limited by the assumption that knowledge is the sole means to the discovery of the other. Rather, there is a third alternative: instead of knowledge, being is the ground of our relationships to others. Ontology, not epistemology is the appropriate level of discourse regarding the Other.

The Other is a term for another person, especially a person who looks at me, sees me, and judges me. The Other is a subject that I experience as such by experiencing myself as an object for the Other. The term “other” helps explain the various aspects of the phenomenon of being – for- others and the complicated interplay of objectivity and subjectivity that takes place when one person encounters another. When I am looked at by the Other i no longer am a free transcendence of the world, and instead become an object in the world of the Other. My free transcendence is transcended by the transcendence of the Other.

Let’s suppose I’m looking at a photograph of a beautiful woman on the computer. I’m completely absorbed by what I’m looking at. This is me on the non-reflective level, and I am alone. But once I hear a noise behind myself, and I suddenly realize that I’m being watched. I’m caught red-handed! My entire situation has changed radically. I am now aware of the presence of someone else – another consciousness who is watching me. The difference between the two situations, before and after, is the difference between an isolated consciousness all by its lonesome and a consciousness in the presence of others. This sudden realization of being watched does not necessarily mean I shift to the reflective level. I will soon get there, but the awesome moment that I realize I am being watched, and before I begin to reflect.

Let’s say I’m at a strip joint, relaxing with my 10 dollar drink. Everything seems cool. Up on the stage, there’s a performer, going through her routine listlessly. It seems normal, and the entire world is constituted by my consciousness, including that other writhing human body, and arranged to refer to a certain point of view – my own. Everything refers to me; everything is organized around me – the eye of the camera is always present but not considered as a phenomenon on the screen. The entire situation is a matter of my phenomena, something perceived or experienced.

But suddenly, that other person, the performer, stops in the middle of her routine and looks at me, staring directly into my eyes. I am startled; I become unnerved. It is because the entire world has come on to me differently. There’s something threatening about this woman’s ominous stare. I’m not afraid that she will leap from the stage and attack me, or anything like that. Let’s say she is petite and svelte, so there’s no question of any physical danger in the situation. Yet I am completely unnerved by her stare.

Jean Paul Sartre says that she is threatening me not with bodily harm, but something far more serious. She is a threat to the order or arrangement of my entire world. The fact of recognizing that there is another consciousness behind those impenetrable eyes, I recognize that there is another point of view on things, a point of view on principle i can never occupy. The world has come on to me, but no longer referring to just my point of view, but to another one too, another camera. The world is no longer comfortably ordered and arranged around my view – it is now arranged around hers.

Everything else remains the same – the same cheesy music, the poles are greasy, the bouncer is still standing there trying to stay awake. But the world is now profoundly different, and there’s nothing reflective here yet. All things are the same, yet something has been lost. The world is now her world - a foreign world that no longer comes from you but from her. The value that appear in the world are suddenly her values – values I can never get in a position to perceive.

Moreover, I suddenly recognize that I can see that certain perspective that I am. In other words, she can see me. That private point of view that is mine – which I am always but can never accurately see – is now seen by that other person. This isn’t reflective – it’s almost as if in my movie, another movie camera came up and stared into the lens of my movie camera. I still don’t see my movie camera on the screen, but I am definitely aware of being seen. Does that woman approve of what I am doing in the strip club? Is she secretly condemning me? Does she find me ugly, awkward, out of place? I can never tell. My world is now haunted by the other’s values, of which I have absolutely no control. There is another freedom turned loose in the world and one that does violence to my own.

The realization that the other person sees me as an object, a certain viewpoint that I occupy but can never see, that POV I try in bad faith to turn into an inert object, the Other succeeds in seeing all that as an object. I can never see myself as others see me. The attempt to do so, the attempt to see myself as an object, is bad faith. But the other sees me as an object. I am for others what I never succeed in being for myself. So, I am exposed, I am vulnerable. I try to be noble, but I can never make myself noble. I can never define myself that way. But the Other can do it to me. She decides whether I am noble or not. She passes judgment by projecting her values on things, including me. She sees me as I really am.

Jean Paul Sartre claims that it is impossible to be ashamed alone. The feeling of shame puts me in touch with other people and their values, even if they’re not there at the situation. Therefore I recognize myself in the Other’s judgment of me, even if I am ignorant of what they are. Her judgment cuts me to the core. Why should the stripper’s judgments be able to wound me unless I recognize myself in them? Yet they are utterly beyond my control. I try to reach the real me, but that will always be in bad faith. I can never succeed, for I am forever separated from myself as I am. The real me is a goal I cannot reach but the Other does it for me, whether I like it or not, with a single action – by a single glance. She makes me what I am. She defines me as a john. Despite this labeling, I remain separated from myself. I have no control over what she makes of me. I am still separated from myself as I am. I can try to win the Other’s approval by being generous, complimentary, behaving in a way I think will win her approval. IOW I can try to manipulate her freedom to get her to judge me in the way I would like. But it’s still her freedom. She may approve of my efforts, or she may see them as sycophantic, cheap manipulative attempts to win her approval. I cannot control which of these alternatives she will choose.

I was talking about grudges with a friend recently, and we agreed on many things. A grudge is the ill will one continues to hold for a long period of time, but the interesting thing is that despite being infuriated by certain snubs, we are not likely to dismiss these painful feelings and move on to greener pastures. Being slighted involves a certain form of entitlement to fairness, and a certain inability to forgive. To be able to forgive is to be empathetic and express positive emotions towards others, and the ability to put oneself in the evildoer’s shoes in order to understand his/her motives.

People who hold long-standing grudges are typically the impotent – whoever could not take revenge against their antagonizers. Their elephantine memory is motivated by feelings of hatred and resentment. This is how the followers of Jesus misunderstood him – instead of forgiving his death, they held a grudge against the Jewish order and from poisoned soil they invented Christianity. La Rochefoucauld has this to say about grudges:

“What makes us so bitter against people who outwit us is that they think themselves cleverer than we are.”

If someone holds a grudge against you, you may have made them bitter because you’ve injured their vanity. Such little minds are easily wounded by little things, whereas great minds see all such things without ever being wounded by them.

Former member of the Egyptian Pantheon, Thoth is traditionally known as the scribe, or the custodian of all knowledge. He has now become a Consul, a prestigious position at Teotihuacan, in which he is Cartaphilus’ inside man. Where Cartaphilus works from the outside as the voice in the wilderness, Thoth is already working from within, inside the system. While Cartaphilus is more dramatic - he works from outside-in, while Thoth works from the inside out, behind the scenes - they both share the same sense for reform.

Witty, clever, constantly punctuating his remarks with a theatrical flourish, Thoth can make even the most routine events seem exciting. His attentive and elegant ways is necessary for traveling in such esteemed social circles, among the heads of pantheons and other ambassadors at Teotihuacan. He knows far too much about every god of repute, and has the knack of saying the right thing.

Regarding manipulation, Thoth is peerless; nobody is as sophisticated socially, as suave or polished. Thoth’s chief attribute is persuasion – the ability to create an enterprise and recruit others to the project, inspire them with confidence - enables him to maneuver others according to his designs.

Engaging, Thoth appears to have empathy skills, but that is due to his perceptive ability to read others’ faces and observe body language. He is extremely hypersensitive to the tiniest nonverbal cues that indicate an attitude.

He sells audiences with nerves of steel, always keeps a lookout for signs of assent o dissent. Easily wins over people, Thoth is always exhilarated by working close to edge. His hard nosed approach made him a capable troubleshooter or negotiator. Thoth is peerless as an entrepreneur but has little patience for traditions or moral niceties, concerned with the bottom line.

Charming and confident, Thoth is often carrying out a hilarious repartee with others, a bottomless bag of quips, anecdotes and jokes. Despite living in the moment, dangerously, he doesn’t allow anyone to get really close to him.

Thoth, as the former Egyptian god of writing, is a master with words. He picks words for their ability to suggest, insinuate, hypnotize, elevate or infect. His words are a powerful and sensual distraction, almost a narcotic. He does not use language to just communicate or supply information, but to persuade, cajole, flatter, stir emotions, etc. He knows that it is the form, never the content, that matters. Audiences do not pay attention to what he says or write, but how the words make them feel.

His concerns are long-term, and when he speaks during crises it is often to defuse tensions and buy himself some time in the short-term. He keeps his cool in times of crises, rarely concerned with ceremony or justifying his actions.

Thoth does not lie; he beguiles with seductive oratory and intoxicate them with words. He does not speak to express his feelings, or pronounce the truth, but produce an effect.

Most gods are conceited enough to talk about themselves and use words to express their feelings, ideas and opinions. Of course the most interesting person is one’s own self, but this is also limits one’s potential. In order to persuade or inspire effectively, it is not the words or the tone of voice, but a radical shift of perspective.

A master at managing the desire to speak his mind, Thoth always asks himself before he speaks: what will have the most pleasant effect? In other words, Thoth flatters the audience’s ego, assuage their insecurities and sympathize with their travails, and presents vague hopes for the future. When he starts with something pleasant, that lowers the listener’s defenses, and turn them amenable and open to suggestion. He always keeps his language vague and ambiguous, which allows the imagination of the listener to fill in the gaps.

The city of gods, Teotihuacan, despite its glamor, has become hopelessly dysfunctional due to a monolithic bureaucracy, bogged down by its outdated organization, inadequate channels and incompetent members. The majority of the members of this bureaucracy are afflicted with monstrous egos, always imposing their way. “Business as usual,” they establish power bases, carry on petty feuds, and maintain wasteful projects. There is little to no communication between agencies, bloated with an excess of redundant positions.

Early on in his career, Thoth kept tabs on potential reformers so he could replace the apathetic incumbents with handpicked and trained gods. They were generally ambitious progressives with ideas of reform; they took initiative and spoke their minds. He has been positioning his proteges in the system, and consequently they spread his ideals and methods. Slowly, but surely, the useless incumbents are being eliminated, and the entire system is being streamlined. Because he is willing to put anything on the table he always has a tactical edge over his opponents, who themselves might be limited by certain obligations to sacred assets or conventional procedures.

Thoth, as the politician’s politician, often keeps a scapegoat conveniently available. None of the gods are perfect – they make mistakes like any mortal – but Thoth is shrewd at keeping his mistakes well hidden and if there is blame to go around, it almost always falls elsewhere. The good name and reputation of a public figure in esteemed positions depends more on what they hide, rather than what they reveal. A great deal of risk is involved if something unpleasant and unpopular is necessary. Thoth employs a cat’s paw to take care of it while keeping his nose clean.

Some of Thoth’s best offers are those that seem to indicate the other person has a choice, giving them the illusion of being in control. But they are actually Thoth’s puppet, for the choices are already in his favor, no matter what they choose, forcing their hand indirectly. Whenever the gods think they have a choice they walk into his trap quicker.

Ambiguous terms like “freedom” and “choice” imply possibilities far beyond the reality they actually refer to. The available choices contain restrictions: they are merely a matter of choice between A and B, and that is it. If the illusion of choice is maintained, the leftover choices (C, D, etc) are never even considered. This is because an excess of freedom, while promising, actually causes anxiety. An infinite amount of options results in paralysis. Hence, the limited amount of choices is comfortable. Clever and perceptive gods like Thoth take full advantage of this to deceive others. Whosoever has the obligation to choose between alternatives never suspect that they are being manipulated. Most gods are too arrogant to even realize that they are being allocated a small amount of freedom in exchange for a more powerful imposition of someone else’s will.

Thoth has little patience to follow through and complete his ideas of reform, though, and this can obscure his talent by losing sight of his contributions… because he rarely bothers to deal with loose ends he has methodical assistants to mop up.

A former Hindu goddess of fortune (health, beauty, wealth), Lakshmi is a Censor at Teotihuacan these days. Her materialistic ideals has made her a favorite of mortals and her idealistic tendencies has made her a favorite of immortals - both devas and demons. Lakshmi was the consort of Vishnu in all his incarnations. Fortuna and Tyche were her avatars in rival pantheons, but she is neither an implacable force of nature nor a whimsical mistress.

An ideal extrovert, Lakshmi’s immense talents come primarily from her external focus, in which her perception is thoroughly intuitive – her empathy is unmatched. Her intellect is a diplomatic one, in which she can identify the common ground quicker than most, smoothing out differences, and her metaphoric language prove to be influential and enlightening. Lakshmi considers division or discrimination as gross evils – differentiations are merely artifices that project and preserve insecurities. She is often promoting shared experiences and universal truths, often advocating views and positions or beliefs or causes that promote rapport among gods and mortals. A lesser god might be more inclined towards propaganda, whereas Lakshmi strives for inclusion.

Because Lakshmi does not subscribe to fatalism, she views life as open-ended, and there are causes worth advocating. Lakshmi is temperamentally altruistic, in which she is devoted to other-serving, and although some suspect her motives to be merely self-serving, she strives for self-actualization when she rids of her selfishness by putting others first. In doing so Lakshmi gains a glimpse into Brahman, the true Self that lies beyond the transient concerns and wishes of herself.

Where many other gods resign themselves to pessimistic conclusions, Lakshmi speaks only of grand possibilities. The present is not enough, for what might be is always greater. Lakshmi’s view of the future is mystical, which makes her language oracular and prophetic.

The way gods and mortals carry themselves determines how they will be treated. Lakshmi’s healthy self-respect inspires the same sentiment in others. This confident and regal manner made her predestined for greatness. For some of the older gods, because they have had immeasurably long lives full of rebuffs and failures that mark their boundaries, they impose limitations on themselves by settling for less and expecting less from their lives. Lakshmi moves in the opposite direction by downplaying failures and ignoring such limitations in her persistent encouragement that comes from high expectations. Her belief in destiny actually radiates outwards and infect the others around her. Many suspect she must have a reason for such confidence, an ace up her sleeve that explains her edge. By acting with dignity, irrespective of the circumstances, she emphasizes her difference and demonstrates her distance from many other gods and goddesses. Some mistake this for arrogance, but that is actually insecurity in disguise, and the very opposite of confidence.

Lakshmi’s genius lies with her ability to identify the deeply buried ideals within others, the inner self of the person that yearns to come out, and the creativity to bring all sorts of appearances to life and escalate suspense. Her wide variety of skills and talents, combined with intuitive understanding, implied a bottomless well of creativity. Not only did she make titans out of gods, she often went as a mortal - Shreedevi - to make kings out of men.

Many gods held themselves to be far greater than what they appeared to the others, for they had unrealized ideals – they aspire to be creators, thinkers, leaders, or otherwise -yet the responsibility of their positions is a prison that oppress them and restrict the chances of allowing themselves to flourish. Lakshmi appeals to this ideal self when she recognizes their aspirations, their better selves. Once the god feels even more elevated and lofty, Lakshmi has attained limitless power over them.

This intuitive understanding of others is the key behind Lakshmi’s influence – by understanding the minds of others she holds the upper hand. Even though the gods are all narcissists, Lakshmi does not share the natural tendency to see others as mere reflections of her own desires and values. Because she understands how others are different from her, she is rarely surprised at their actions. Since the gods are trapped within themselves, where their narcissism serve as a filter between themselves and others, they often misconstrue one another and their plans fail.

However, Lakshmi’s ideation of others comes at the cost of conventional ties. She has little patience for tradition, and may agitate others from within an organization, join with detractors. Her sympathetic ears conceal a spirit of nonconformist. Lakshmi requires freedom, i.e., new outlets to challenge her creativity, for she quickly becomes restless when things get stagnant. In this sense, Lakshmi’s gifts themselves are her worst enemy. The ability to serve many different offices with different pantheons reinforce a reputation of free-spiritedness, which is easily perceived as fickleness and inconstancy, particularly inspiring mistrust in other goddesses. They disparage Lakshmi for appearing purposeless and directionless in her search for advocacy.

This is a controversial question, and affirmed by Niccolo Machiavelli, Thomas Jefferson, Plato, and many, many others.

The current state of the American government is doubly damning because people do get the government they deserve. Because not everyone is alike, there are people who want to rule and there are others who prefer to be ruled. And the latter – a majority – want someone else to rule, do the work, so they can focus their energies on other pursuits.

In other words, there are no victims. Permit me this analogy: whenever someone is conned out of his money, it is because he is stupid, or because he wasn’t being prudent. There are actually people who want to be conned. Yes, this analogy implies that people in a tyranny are complicit in the political process, likely unconsciously. The notion that people are passive victims who are injured by an evil cabal that runs Washington is a convenient myth that hides the ugly reality of neoliberalism.

Whenever some lefty denounces America or the Reagan/Bush administrations, he is saying that only the powers that be are actively n consciously oppressing the majority of people, from the top down. Thus, they are innocent victims, either brainwashed by American hegemony or Stepford clones designed for self-oppression.

Bollocks, I say. This overlooks the “sheep,” who are actually apathetic and indifferent to politics, all too satisfied with economic comfort while disregarding how that came about. A con artist doesn’t prey upon innocent lambs because suckers are a dime a dozen. They want to be conned. The con artist and the sucker both are in collusion because they need each other.

It was so easy to blame the evil Karl Rove or dirty republicans for stealing the presidential elections, but that’s only letting the democrat party off the hook for running inept campaigns (gore, kerry). These democrats self-destructed due to their own incompetence. People participate in their own defeats.

Far too many people today subscribe to the myth that there is an evil cabal of politicians who pushed a neo-conservative agenda that enforced American interests in a hostile world. This grand narrative is rather comforting, and offers a simple solution: just replace the evil cabal with honest, fiscally-responsible and environmentally-conscious politicians tolerant of all differences among people.

This is all fiction because the American public is completly complicit due to their ideology: the government is responsible for much but not its citizens. This neoliberalism has been in effect since 1980, and contains several earmarks: tax reduction, discipline in fiscal and monetary policy, and light regulation of private sector.

Skepticism of the government’s role and the effectiveness of its policies is fundamental to neoliberalism, which shrunk politics. No policies that could harm the status quo could survive, and that made politicians incapable of demanding anything from the public. See the micropolicies of Clinton where great ideas came at little cost.

When we invaded Iraq, we were told that it would not tax our resources, that it would be a cakewalk. They were wrong on the latter, but not the former. The war on terror is small. Although defense expenditures did increase about 40% under President Bush, it came from a low base. Five years after 9/11, the defense expenditure of gross domestic product (GDP) was only 3.8%, while it was at 6.8% for the past 50 years. Moreover, only 0.6% of the adult population of the United States are employed in active military duty - which has not been that low since 1941. We had more military personnel in Japan 10 years after WWII, more in Germany at the end of 1989, and twice as many were deployed to Korea. And so on.

Bottom line? Americans deserve the government they have!

MAYA

As a fundamental force of nature that sometimes embodies itself as the enchantress, Maya knows the only thing that counts is appearance. She continually bathes all beings with *moha*, delusion, and she alone can remove it. This delusion is the source of difference, in which gods and mortals become distinct individuals, and unitary reality breaks down to particular objects.

Maya is conspicuous among the other deities, for she stands out by making herself larger, more colorful and mysterious than the blander gods, making herself a magnet for attention. Glowing brilliantly Maya attains a magnified presence that pulls all attention towards her. With large gestures - sometimes amusing, oftentimes scandalous - she outshines all the others.

Over the course of their endless lives the gods struggle with crushing boredom, limited to options that are either banal or all-too-familiar. Anything that appears enigmatic draws instant interest.

One cost of being a member of a society of immortals is the absence of the unknowable. Since death holds no mysteries this society is full of anesthetized gods who secretly yearn for riddles or enigmas, things, or beings that cannot either be truly deciphered, possessed or transformed. Ergo, their fascination with ancient objects older than themselves.

The idea of mystery involves active imaginations, resulting in many different interpretations, for it implies something strange is concealing something very wonderful. In a completely transparent society with tedious characters, the strange and bizarre automatically attract attention. With the aura of mystery Maya has all the attention she needs, which also creates a intimidating presence.

As the consummate illusionist Maya maintains mystery - without ever being obvious in her actions - in order to intensify anticipation, or beguile, seduce and even frighten, all for often unfathomable motives.

Maya is far more calculating with her messages and images than many others. Oftentimes she holds back, even remain silent for long periods of time, breaking with a sphinx-like bon mot here and there.

Despite their great powers, the gods inevitably feel oppressed by their roles, and they resent the requirements it entails: be authoritative, imperious, imposing, always maintain self-restraint. Maya has complete control over perception, both divine and mortal, which turns her into the ultimate fantasy figure. With illusions and appearances she offers the gods a complete escape from the dreary restrictions of the responsibilities of divinity. Her sole presence exacerbates sexual tension, causing all (particularly the masculine gods) to feel they are in a realm of pleasure.

Maya has always been considered a dangerous goddess, for her enticements usually tempts gods to lose all sense of proportion in their pursuit, which is actually what they long to do. Maya is a mirage that lures gods by developing a certain appearance and manner, sometimes tailor-made for that particular god. She has mastered the masculine libido by incarnating their uninhibited fantasies.

Moreover, Maya knows the great power that comes with the ability to intuit the fantasies of the masses. The gods have no use for the truth; it is generally offensive and impolite, hideous and annoying. Rather than provoking anger with the truth, Maya flourishes with illusions by fabricating romance and fantasies in a humdrum society. The exotic fantasy provide the gods temporary relief from their permanent ennui.

I think prostitution is a private business transaction, and should not be considered in other terms. The prostitute (male or female) is free to enter into contracts. The claim that it is merely an exploitative service where the client is interested only in the prostitute’s services, not them personally is tantamount to the claim that the client seeks only the services of a professional (lawyer, doctor, professor) and not them personally. The prostitute is not a victim, nor a wage laborer - the contract is with a client, not an employer.

We must fight off the paternalistic (as well as chauvinist) urge to consider women as powerless victims and the dependent in male-female relationships. Once this happens then its easier to understand prostitution under different terms than conventional mores of society and judgmental ones of morality.

Prostitution actually emphasizes women’s liberation from their dependency of men, and their empowerment. The ideals of equality and freedom between sexes are worth pursuing, indeed, but while they are not a reality, then prostitution instead grants women liberation in immediacy, affirmation and temporally rewarding.

Simone de Beauvior claims all women have the ability to realize their “feminine warrior spirit,” for their power over men is not illusory. Men typically think they’re in charge of the situation if they subdue and degrade the woman, but with a competent woman of spirit, this may only be illusory.

Carol Pateman said that “the man may think he ‘has’ her but his sexual possession is an illusion; it is she who has him… she is not being “taken,” cuz she is being paid…”

The typical Marxist decries prostitution as exploitative and oppressive because all employment necessarily are oppressive and exploitative. The typical moralist condemns the profession and blames the working girls for allowing themselves to fall so low.

However, the prostitute is not a fallen woman, a victim of society, for she is already the “qunitessentially liberated woman.” I agree that women may be opressed by the inequality between the sexes, de Beauvior claims there is an escape from this oppression by economic means. While most may consider the prostitute a victim, oppressed, I see her as a liberated woman who used a successful economic strategy for her livelihood.

From Nina Epton’s book, Love and the French:

This is how Monsieur Mauclair analyzed men’s attitude toward prostitutes: “Neither the love of a passionate but well-brought-up mistress, nor his marriage to a woman whom he respects, can replace the prostitute for the human animal in those perverse moments when he covets the pleasure of debasing himself without affecting his social prestige. Nothing can replace this bizarre and powerful pleasure of being able to say everything, do everything, profane and parody without any fear of retribution, remorse, or responsibility. It is a complete revolt against organized society, his organized, educated self and especially his religion.” Monsieur Mauclair hears the call of the Devil in this dark passion poetized by Baudelaire. “The prostitute represents the unconscious which enables us to put aside our responsibilities.”

What did the cannibal say to the other cannibal when they were eating a clown? “Does this taste funny to you?” 

What makes us laugh? Can humor be explained? Why is it so hard to explain a joke to someone who doesn’t get it? The explanation of why something is funny cannot itself be funny, which defeats the purpose of explaining humor. However, it does not mean we can talk about a general theory of humor. Inasmuch a theory of music is not itself musical, a theory of love is not itself loveable, a theory of humor should not be required to be funny itself, either.

In the essay Laughter the philosopher Henri Bergson claimed that laughter is a human, carefree and shared phenomenon. Laughter is human, because it does not take place elsewhere in nature, and carefree, because it does not require emotional involvement, and shared because it requires a community of shared opinion. This makes laughter a ‘light-hearted comedy.’ But Georges Bataille thinks otherwise: laughter interrupts commonality, shatters the rational indifference of the mind and negates the humanist ideal, for it is always “intermingled with a pleasant sensuality.” Laughter in this context is actually convulsive and overwhelming. This Bataillean laughter is not Nietzschean, which bespeaks a Mediterranean bright sun, a grateful disposition where serious truths are spoken while laughing. In Bataille’s writings you can hear him laughing like the madman of Nietzsche, like his insane father who screamed with pain as well.

But the most plausible theory theory of humor is Schopenhauer’s, one that reduces all funny situations to paradox: an object is suddenly included in a completely foreign category and we perceive this as the incongruity between the conceptual and the real. Incongruity is essentially the inconsistency with our expectations, when the abstraction fails to include a certain particular event, person, or an object of thought, and we are surprised by this failure. Schopenhauer says humor as “the cause of laughter” is “in every case … simply the sudden perception of the incongruity between concept and the real object.” When the particular object transcends the general, it appears incongruous with the abstraction. In other words, humor emerges from the unexpected relief from the intellect as the victory of sense perception over the powers of abstraction. In humor we flee from our intellects. Surprise, also a crucial element of humor, in which “the greater and more unexpected … this incongruity is, the more violent will be his laughter.”