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Cogito Ergo Sum: I Think Not

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Creaci%C3%B3n de Ad%C3%A1m.
Creaci%C3%B3n de Ad%C3%A1m.
(Image by Wikipedia (commons.wikimedia.org), Author: Author Not Given)
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Cogito Ergo Sum: I Think Not

Part 1: A Creation Story: In the Beginning Was the Mighty Whitey

In the uppercase Beginning was the Bing Bang Boom, chaos called to order, galaxies fritzing everywhere -- zoom zoom zoom -- like a fireworks display. God telling stars to get a room room room. Much later Cosmos Carl came along, telling us, to Vangelis tunes, that we humans are the stuff that stars conceived in that room, then, just glints in the Old Man's eyes. You and Me. Water, carbon, electric jellyfish brains. Hmph.

But another way of looking at it. Is maybe there was a Garden where all was bonny as a bee bumbling around from to bliss to bliss in a solar wind that blew kiss after kiss. There was an Old Man River figure in charge and he filled the small sandy landscape (the null arbor, the original terra nullius) with not-so-green things, and one C*nt Tree under God (the leaves were multinational flags), and that C*nt Tree was in full rosy bloom, honey bees busy as at a loom loom loom, when C*nt Tree suddenly died, all the leaves fallen and spread to the winds, as if by the kiss of blight or bliss, leaving just one fruit fallen on the plain, an apple God called Adam (He choked up when he said the name), and Old Man River said, in prelinguistic English, Thou Must (to the apple) Never Wander Far From Thy Tree.

Of course, that was metaphorical, because people don't talk to apples that way. But, at that time, when there was no time, in a place called Erewhon (or something like that), Old Man River turned the apple into a Man called Adam. And Adam, if not actually happy, was on this side of Bliss in an opium dream. (Don't knock it till you've tried it.) No those weren't sky clouds emanating. And it didn't matter if he was hooked on skag. Who was he bothering? What production line was he holding up? He just lounged all day long, in limp-wristed pleasure, each a day a small forever he hoped would last a long, long time. The languor before language and desire. Oh.

One day, Old Man River visited upon him in mindless wistfulness, and reached out to him (see image above) and they almost touched finger to finger, but there was always a gap between them, Dad never quite wanted to touch him. Still, the Old Man enquired as to his seeming blues, and Adam said, looking at his Dad with his left arm wrapped around a woman, "I want some of that." The Old Man pulled back his proffered finger (not depicted) and rebuked his son, "Shame on you, Adam. That's your mother, Wisdom." Adam repeated, "I want some." Dad lightened up, the lines of his scowling forehead disappeared; he was bass relieved. He said, "I thought you were gay." And Adam said, "I'm in your image, Dad." The scowl returned for a moment. Looking like he had some other part of the universe to be, he said simply to Adam, "Tell you what, I'll just rip a rib from you and carve you a new one." Before Adam could answer, the Old Man purloined a rib and -- shazam!-- there stood before him a voluptuous Coke bottle-shaped woman that even his Dad seemed to envy more than the Real Thing. "I'll leave you 'two' to it," He said, and departed for parts unknown, Wisdom in tow, but looking back at Adam. Damn, thought Adam, looking at Eve, she even looks like Wisdom, my mom.

Meantime, Old Man River had been having behavior issues with his personality disordered son, Satan, one of his favorite angels. He was loud, obnoxious, arrogant and proud, full of an unusual brand of hubris exhibited in a confronting grin. That, was fine, but when the kid started mouthing off, push came to shove and the Old Man found himself losing his temper and tossing Satan right the f*ck out of Heaven, with his hoary retinue not far behind. Down through space they flew, down down down. The horned lord's acolytes continued on to a crashing thump in Hell and immediately set about kindling up a flame for the vanity bonfire they would spend the rest of eternity roasting marshmallows by. Satan descending saw an island in the Sun, and thought, what have we here? Hmm, two of God's prototypes blissing out in Eden. He rubbed his goatee. He couldn't help himself, he had to f*ck with them to avenge his Ouster: He slurled up to Eve and whispered in her ear to try the peach tree. She wondered unconsciously that day, Do I dare to eat a peach? And she wandered away from a sleeping Adam and found the peach tree and she did eat said peach and likey very much. Satan had spiked the peaches and BOOM she was conscious and well on her way to wisdom. Adam woke, she said try this, he sparked up, they spoke for the first time, and well....

Not long later, Old Man River returned to look in on his son and his new plaything. He was immediately godsmacked by what he saw: fig leaves covering their newtons. Was ist das? he exclaimed, reverting back to his Teutonic roots in mein kampf consternation. He didn't like the privates covered up: modesty was unbecoming of any future God. "Did you eat from the tree I told you to specifically stay away from," He asked. "Looking that way, Dad," Adam seemed to sass back. Old Man River, once waltzy Danube was now all Wagner Rhein, cleared them out. "Out, out, brief vandals, out you go," He said. And pointing at Eve, said to Adam, "and take her with you and go f*ck yourself, for all I care." Up Yours, Adam retorted. And so they were heaved from their Blue Heaven, not out of too much pride, but, apparently, too little. No soft porn in Eden. And it's been Chinatown Syndrome ever since, Eve with her meltdowns, Adam muttering existentially to himself, "She's my sister, she's my mother, she's me sidekick, she's my brother, she's me myself and I."

Then they headed out heartbroken and East of Eden and Eve realized she was preggers and their spirits lifted (inexplicably) and they invented agriculture (Why not? he thought, he had a hoe) and instead of going up the wall while Adam hunted grizz all day (or said he had been) Eve took up painting the wall with animals (as they do) and Adam went Hmm and Abel came along and Cain came along and Mama Eve loved Cain more and Adam wasn't far behind (Cain was prick) and it was Old Man River vis-a-vis Adam all over again and Cain killed Abel, saying, "Die, Momma's pet. Ich bin ein Berliner," Adam tattooed Cain's forehead and tossed him out on his ear and he went further East and became a stock broker. A&E had more kids, more culls and cuddles. As the population grew, things got unruly, siblings went from ribald to rivalled, governing principles were applied, Hegel's historical moments were begatted, the Age of False Consciousness was with us: What had started out peachy keen was now the Devil's Work. Could globalization be far behind? More after these millennial ads....

NYC - Metropolitan Museum of Art - Death of Socrates
NYC - Metropolitan Museum of Art - Death of Socrates
(Image by wallyg from flickr)
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II. Socrates (470 - 399 BC)
Sure, by leaving out the ads, you can skip a few years between the Birth of Be-bop and Socrates, because it's all a search for order out of chaos anyway -- how do we gather in organized units, who gets what and why, the Birth of MILF and Darwinian evolution (rapists calling the shots, what we know, don't know, and who gives a sh*t and why.) One of our best early attempts getting a practical system going, where we could have a politically viable working order to what we do was governance by Democracy. Still with us, but fading, fading fast.

Pictured above is Socrates. He didn't mind democracy at first, although he wasn't especially personable (they called him The Gadfly for a reason), but he had problems with the illusions people lived by. It drove him starkers that people, when questioned about their values or knowledge really couldn't tell you why they believed what they believed; they couldn't get to the foundation of their opines. Because they were living an illusion. He tried to snap them out of it with his dialectics, but no-go with the old farts. It was like they heard him say dianetics instead of dialectics. So he tried engaging that Age's millennials and the disillusioned leaders accused him of creating an Occupy Athens and, when word psst-ed that he might be an Atheist, they turned on him. Say sorry, they said, or else.

Well, Socrates wasn't having any of that humble pie. It was reasonable what he was doing, making demos realize that, like him, they didn't really know a whole lot; they were dumb shits like him (even Nietzsche, who would later kill God, supposedly said before they dragged him away to the asylum, "Momma, ich bin dumm.") If these two giants of thinking figure that, in the end, we know next to nothing, who the f*ck are we to claim otherwise? And now there's the Internet, full of gods and illusions, a real democracy at work. Socrates was having no part of that Apology.

He got his ass down on the death bed so fast demos were horrified at how he just seemed to say, "F*ck it." Damn, were the kids gonna lose their age's Lebowski? Pictured above is the answer -- Yes. We see him reaching out for the chalice, saying, "Mate, give me the feckin hemlock, and tell that Asclepius he's a co*k and I owe him one." And there he is giving the world the first known instance of The Finger.

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John Kendall Hawkins is an American ex-pat freelance journalist and poet currently residing in Australia. His poetry, commentary, and reviews have appeared in publications in Oceania, Europe and the USA, such as Cordite, Morning Star, Hanging (more...)
 

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