They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you. — Tom Storm

I see also how appropriate this was in terms of selfmodifying softwhere, our individual beingthrown into a particular duo of tooyoung clowns. I think of my young parents now (as they were when they had me) as children.

:up:

Sorry, officer, that I assumed we were concerned with logic. Carry on my playword fun. — plaque flag

:up: No worries cuntstable; it's all just language games, after all...until it isn't...

[ erased an angry post ]

Grow up or go away. — plaque flag

:rofl: Now that's funny...or at least a little funnier than "Run along. You are boring"...! It seems you are starting to develop a sense of humour...

[ erased an angry post ]

You misunderstood...I was going away and I wasn't trying to start a fight...just needling you a little...but thanks for the somewhat disturbing snapshot of your personality anyways...

I had just grown tired of the regurgitated faux-poetic and normative machine-man cliches and wanted to get off the merry-go-round as I was becoming bored, so I thought I'd inject a little rhetorical counterpoint that was not meant to be taken seriously as a way of easing out of the 'engagement' with a bit of a laugh.

I likewise don't take you to be an intimidating intellectual adversary, but then I don't think of myself as being above you either; I just think our basic presuppositions and approaches are so far apart that we will never manage to do anything but talk past one another, and that quickly becomes tiresome.

It does puzzle me that you are worried about my age...I just can't see how that is relevant. Probably best we ignore one another from now on.

The more I read Heidegger, the more Heidegger I find in Hegel --- and the more I believe Heidegger carries a torch passed by Hegel, namely this metaphor of Geist as a flame that leaps from torch to torch, leaving a trail of spent torches behind. It's crucial to this metaphor that the flame grows hotter and brighter as it hops from torch to torch. We, as software, time bound up in symbols, become more and more aware of what we are : a self-articulating, self-defining process, a blossoming selfreferential vortext, constrained less and less by the inhuman nature and more and more by the social, by our runaway power and suspicion and greed.

But this discussion is about meaning. I claim the hermeneutic is a spiral. We are all bots running a circular spiel, but we run in wider and wider circles. Repetition with variation, a ring of metaphors lets in a new child to join the mad dance.

Is clarification worth it ? Is it not easier to pretend that everybody already knows [some issueevasive platitude ] ? Aren't edifying supplements from the local drugstore better than the icy climb into the lonely heights of no longer being intelligible, if only in this tiny regard, by Tom, Dick, and Harry ? Should an ecstatic critical metaphysics offering sober joy be thrown over for a bumper stick which offers a wonderful ratio of comfort over cost ?

The man who only seeks edification, who wants to envelop in mist the manifold diversity of his earthly existence and thought, and craves after the vague enjoyment of this vague and indeterminate Divinity – he may look where he likes to find this: he will easily find for himself the means to procure something he can rave over and puff himself up withal. But philosophy must beware of wishing to be edifying.

Still less must this kind of contentment, which holds science in contempt, take upon itself to claim that raving obscurantism of this sort is something higher than science. These apocalyptic utterances pretend to occupy the very centre and the deepest depths; they look askance at all definiteness and preciseness of meaning; and they deliberately hold back from conceptual thinking and the constraining necessities of thought, as being the sort of reflection which, they say, can only feel at home in the sphere of finitude. But just as there is a breadth which is emptiness, there is a depth which is empty too: as we may have an extension of substance which overflows into finite multiplicity without the power of keeping the manifold together, in the same way we may have an insubstantial intensity which, keeping itself in as mere force without actual expression, is no better than superficiality. The force of mind is only as great as its expression; its depth only as deep as its power to expand and lose itself when spending and giving out its substance. Moreover, when this unreflective emotional knowledge makes a pretence of having immersed its own very self in the depths of the absolute Being, and of philosophizing in all holiness and truth, it hides from itself the fact that instead of devotion to God, it rather, by this contempt for all measurable precision and definiteness, simply attests in its own case the fortuitous character of its content, and in the other endows God with its own caprice. When such minds commit themselves to the unrestrained ferment of sheer emotion, they think that, by putting a veil over self-consciousness, and surrendering all understanding, they are thus God’s beloved ones to whom He gives His wisdom in sleep. This is the reason, too, that in point of fact, what they do conceive and bring forth in sleep is dreams. — Hegel

https://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/hegel/works/ph/phprefac.htm

We do tend to attach cool sounding labels to that which we cannot explain and then proceed as if the label explains all.

We do tend to attach cool sounding labels to that which we cannot explain and then proceed as if the label explains all. — Arne

:up:

Yes. We bury complexity under words that we pretend to understand.