[Nettime-bold] la thoérie de la femme coupée en morceaux

["porculus" <porculus@wanadoo.fr>]

er..ahem..

bonjour mademoiselle, bonjour madame, bonjour monsieur

the net in general is above all a new place for moral experimentation. brief new
reasons to sin. and probably new way to sin to dicover or forgotten ones to find
again. look at this crooked guy Michel serres in livid ecumenical laity patron saint
with faither in the ass :

pit Schultz speaking :
> maybe someone of you read erik davis' last book, in which he names the
> great antagonist of our times "hermes", the trickster, god of trade
> and thiefs, and god of communication. michel serres, also a
> kind of half-god in the academic sense, made him the hero of his studies.

Michel serres in hermes !!! Doesn't this criminal male apparatus glitter as a
symetrical murderer call of our shining blade ? for sure ! and in fact erik davis in
shakesperian  traitorous appealing to antique thirst and remembering the fondation of
Athens & rome have needed assassination and fratricide, so preferably a french and a
cretinous victime dressed in ridiculous sacrificial outfit, and us his instruments of
a without return drama. It's the anglosaxon way, so how much I prefer the foul
smealing hairy latin one of vatican who has the decisive advantage to say 'there are
some life here, and probably some lost soul to profit'. As usual, latin is a
recycling civilisation. But in general what you see : More great the sins and more
cyberspacewhatsit exist, each of us we have a fuliginous idea of that, nazi,
terrorist, sound as an exorcism not for proving the presence of some monster, but
just the presence of middle class amateur male, and specially female one. in the
cyberwhatsit the power of denegation of life is great ! threatening.. the walk in
cyberwhatsit look like furiously as a walk between two tide : first you walk about
innocent for ogling the ass of the girl, then the sun shine and you have faith in
well done humankind (or nearly) and second you think 'it's too early till for turning
back, otherwise I will pass just for a peeping tom (especialy at your own eyes)'
and..soon you find yourself alone with fucking prat seagulls and empty shell of
mussel, and your torment is 'are the traces around you are proofs of full of life or
is the earth for good deserted ? and just a bit away you are nearly ready to fall
kneel down for praying to find an atrociously mutilated corpse behind next desolate
dune for feeling a presence.. yes even an half one










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