The poetry of the derp

There once was a pigman on whose grave I had the pleasure to spit both right before (October 30th) and right after (November 5th) the burial.ⁱ

On that second article people left quotes of his less offensive poetry, because this particular sack of scum was actually rather talentedⁱⁱ. A good example is thisⁱⁱⁱ :

N-aş vrea să te-ndârjesc sau să te sperii,
nici să te fac să te-ndoieşti de tine,
dar eu te-am adorat fără criterii,
estet bolnav, al patimii depline.

It translates as "I wouldn't want to either engrim^iv or scare you, nor make you doubt yourself ; but I have loved you without criteria, a sick aesthete of full passion."

The problem with this - obviously but I guess worth repeating - is that it's all completely, entirely and without remainder-ly wrong. The correct approach is to scare the woman. Not a little, and not even a lot, but absolutely, directly, to the point of terror. And then, to engrim her, to the point of self-destructive madness. And then to make her doubt herself, all the way to catatonia. And then, thoroughly broken^v, to graciously allow her to adore you.

That's what it is, that's how it goes, start living the life of men and stop thinking that some abject Проко́фьев is going to be still edible in parts. Rotten meat, unfit to cook, is not fit to grill either, nor to bake, nor to prop the door open, nor to use as a pillow, nor for any other purpose. There's nothing good in the life of scum, there's nothing to recover from the "poetry" of Adrian Paunescu. Even the parts that may seem good are actually bad, it's just that you're too stupid, or too naive, or too lazy to figure out the hows and whys.^vi

O, wait, what, the proper approach is "too expensive" ? In what sense is it expensive, does it take too many women and too many poets and too much flesh and blood and sweat and tears to satisfy ?

Boo fucking hoo. Flesh there's an infinity of^vii, and similarly blood, and sweat, and definitely tears. There's never going to be a shortage of poets, or of women. Metal is in short supply, and coal. And germanium, and rare metals, and even plastic. Trying to create palliatives for infinity out of finite resources, now that's the true brand of folly.

Stop telling me how there's need of an infinity of copper and glass and glucose to save one stupid fuck, I couldn't care less. Stop bothering me with idiocy about "feeding the hungry", let them starve and record the music of their wails. Tell me instead how the perfection of one single clump of steel was built upon the self sacrifice of untold, anonymous legions, that's how things are supposed to go, every drop of water in this world has already been pissed out of an average of four kidneys, every piece of copper has been at least three or four statues and we are drastically running out of marble.

Forget the people, nobody cares, in no sense do they matter, it's the matter that's important. Hard drives cost a few cents per gigabyte of potential storage. Data itself hardly costs anything at all.^viii The Pyramids are the proper model of civilisation, not Mount Sinai.

The Pyramids. Not Mount Sinai.

1. This was a little strange, all things considered, seeing how the guy died suddenly a few days after I published an article about how he's been irrelevant for long enough, he may now die. You know, 1984-style. [↩]
2. And it did him no benefit, dear libertard postdocs with delusions as to your own fate. You're not even talented, you realise ? [↩]
3. Introduced by the original commenter as "look, here's a poem that's not an ode to the tyrant, but merely a love poem". [↩]
4. The root of the Romanian word is dirz, which would roughly denote the spirit of Sparta's 300. It's not that they were stubborn or angry or violent or psychopathic or anything else. It's just that when Phillip sent word that if he manages to conquer Lacedemonia he'll raze Sparta, the answer came simply as "if". That's dirzenie, the state of indifference to consequence. So in this context, a indirji a woman would mean to make her go into stupid woman mode. You know what I'm talking about. [↩]
5. If women weren't meant and didn't need to be broken in order to be made whole, they'd have just been born with the ability to procreate by themselves. [↩]
6. In Stalin's own words, you're a bunch of newborn fucking kittens, but that's him. [↩]
7. Or in the words of Seinfeld,

   I'm going to get a physical examination. That urine sample. Giving them that, that's always a pleasure, isn't it? Then there's always the amount question: "l don't know what you need. I gave you whatever I had there. I got more. Whatever you need, I can get it for you. Just let me know what you need. It's no problem, I mean...

   [↩]

8. With exceptions, of course, but we are not discussing exceptions here, we're discussing the statistics of the matter. [↩]