This satire may also be read at Fort Russ News

dingleberry |ˈdiNGəlˌberē|
noun (pl. dingleberries) vulgar slang
1 a small shit-ball attached to the anal hair of an animal or man.
2 informal a foolish or inept person: That clueless dingleberry Slavoj Žižek manifest his narcissism in the mirror of Lacan
ORIGIN: German ding from Hegel’s ‘Ding-an-sich’ or ‘a thing as such’ + berry. Der Narzisst Slavoj Žižek manifestiert sein Scheißkerl im Spiegel

“Žižek’s understanding of political belief is modelled on Lacan’s understanding of transference in psychoanalysis. The belief or “supposition” of the analysand in psychoanalysis is that the Other (his analyst) knows the meaning of his symptoms. This is obviously a false belief, at the start of the analytic process…

In other words, philosophically speaking, those subjecting themselves to analysis cannot know the difference between their own butt-hole and either end of a hollow log.

…but it is only through holding this false belief about the analyst that the work of analysis can proceed, and the transferential belief can become true (when the analyst does become able to interpret the symptoms). Žižek argues that this strange intersubjective or dialectical logic of belief in clinical psychoanalysis also [is] what characterizes peoples’ political beliefs”

So, at the end of the political ‘analytic’ process, analyst Žižek is the ‘Other’ in the ‘Mirror’ … a ‘Performer of Political Fellatio Upon Teutons’ or a ‘PPFUT’ (sounds like a cat’s hiss) a.k.a. suffers from ‘scheizkerl syndrome’ typified by intergenerational, psychological dingleberries inherited from France’s Vichy practitioner Lacan & the stale corpse of Hegel’s work.

It is a bit roundabout, tracing Žižek’s Slovenian cultural embrace of Martin Luther and Luther’s forbears (German Catholicism) via France, but not really difficult.

Slavoj Žižek’s neo-Freudian hero, Jacques Lacan, smells a bit untidily of Vichy France. During the Nazi occupation of Paris, it would appear Lacan kept his employ as a therapist at Val-de-Grace military hospital, as well, his private practice continued unmolested-uninterrupted. One can only wonder whether or, when and how, Marshal Petain, or perhaps Klaus Barbie, presented as Lacan’s ‘Other’ in his psychiatric practice. Should this point to a foundation for a philosophy that is dishonest? Well, that would be ‘open to interpretation’ in that Lacan was astute enough to point out the European tradition of social-developmental psychology is to create a narcissist in every child with his concept of ‘Mirror.’ Of course the consequent ‘Other’ one projects into one’s everyday surroundings & encounters, is actually the subsequent inability of the European individual (Lacan included) to grasp there could be any comprehensible reality a single degree beyond the 2 or 3 degree borders of their own perception of self. In short: ‘People so full of themselves they are too socially stupid to understand they’ve been shaped into something utterly stupid.’

This goes to Lacan’s relationship with James Joyce; intellectually dishonest philosophers are like fleas nursing at a bitch’s belly in those bohemian cafes populated by (current era) jaded Klingon poets Robert Bly, the corpse of Ken Kesey and, Tom Robbins (among others.) We could call this contemporary cafe scene ‘post-intellectual-beat-your-meat-ism.’ Here is Robbins’ take on the Joyce literary monstrosity “Finnegan’s Wake”

“the language in it is incredible. There’s so many layers of puns and references to mythology and history. But it’s the most realistic novel ever written. Which is exactly why it’s so unreadable. He wrote that book the way that the human mind works. An intelligent, inquiring mind. And that’s just the way consciousness is. It’s not linear. It’s just one thing piled on another. And all kinds of cross references. And he just takes that to an extreme. There’s never been a book like it and I don’t think there ever will be another book like it. And it’s absolutely a monumental human achievement. But it’s very hard to read”

Robbins incidentally has also said:

“I’m descended from a long line of preachers and policemen. Now, it’s common knowledge that cops are congenital liars, and evangelists spend their lives telling fantastic tales in such a way as to convince otherwise rational people that they’re factual. So, I guess I come by my narrative inclinations naturally”

Divide the 1st paragraph by the 2nd paragraph and I expect the reader will understand a compulsive liar (or ‘deadbeat poet’, as the case may be) coming to understand Joyce while high on LSD is only equal to a charlatan (Lacan) rewriting Freud to accomplish making a name for himself whilst claiming he’s making sense of nonsense. Narcissism never knew a greater talent pool than those claiming they can sensibly read what cannot be sensibly read, or sensibly accomplish what cannot be sensibly accomplished or, to make any sense at all of what should have been established as patent nonsense, but that’s the Western philosophers’ game; burying the contradictions of their culture in complex circumlocution by design: so those contradictions never need be met face to face. This brings us to the Slovenes’ cultural mentality.

A Slav imitating a German (when it is not deliberate comedy) is like a pachuco emulating the ideology of a skinhead; except the cultural animosity is both millennia old and ingrained in the DNA. This phenomenon is nothing short of a cosmic satire cast in the mold of the so-called ‘Stockholm Syndrome.” When it is an entire people, it can only be described as an ‘end of times’ parody; a people whose language is a close cousin to Old Church Slavonic and full well knowing Slavs had been openly declared racially ‘Untermensch’, subject to slaughter by German cultural definition, in a not-so-distant past (let’s not forget the denazification project was never carried through in Adenauer’s post-war Germany, to the contrary, many Nazis were ‘rehabilitated’ if that term can be applied to the Gehlen Organization that became Germany’s secret spy service) yet the Slovene philosopher runs to the embrace of Martin Luther’s progeny and Hegel’s ‘idealism.’ Let’s have a bit of fun with this in format of sublimated cultural metaphor or fairy tale:

This ‘post-modern teutonic vision fairy tale’ could be called ‘gas attack’, where in effect a ‘gas attack’, other than Nazi employ of Zyklon B, elevating excruciating gas pains to a new philosophical level, could as easily be deadly, quiet farts, in polite company. For instance, no one should wish to insult anyone’s mother’s cooking but in earlier era a certain Frau Žižek, once upon a time, took it upon herself to habitually prepare ham and large white beans soup for supper, on Saturday evening, prior to little Slavoj’s father goose-stepping him like a good soldier to church on Sunday mornings.

Now, for whatever reasons, it happened both; little Slavoj craved this delicacy and it did NOT like him. But this unfortunate biological-based sort of bodily-dissonance went in large part undetected by those grand phobahs in the family authority. This was because little Slavoj’s parents would be off to the main church service where lessons in the almighty were dispensed in academic fashion worthy of ivory tower, whereas the mere house-baboon type underlings, such as little Slavoj, were shunted off to ‘training’ in proper Lutheran style .. in a somewhat preconceived notion anticipating future paradise where no children are allowed in the company of ‘adult’ goings on and/or doings, the Hegelian-based roots of segregation as it were.

So it was, this unfortunate little Slavoj, repeatedly (in class repeatedly, and repeatedly in class), was a machine pushing out highly humid farts of the utterly silent variety and which aroma would melt metal like a smelter. Or explode a building like a natural gas leak that found the heater’s pilot light. Farts resembling a highly sulfurous volcano vent’s gases forced through his village cousin’s fresh manure pile, gathered from the sheep pens. Heads went to desks, kids’ eyes watered, the class instructor took on a glazed look, during entirely-too-long-pauses, breaking up lesson plans.

Because Martin Luther’s Hegelian progeny never say what is honestly on their mind when the subject matter is embarrassingly prurient, and farts are embarrassingly prurient subject in any German or pseudo-German company, this nightmare went on, week after week and the small classroom’s door could not so much as be left ajar, to let in some fresh air, as this would be a tacit admission there was an embarrassing problem.

Thusly so, it went on until for whatever reason (no adult instructor willing to endure anymore) one Sunday morning there was no professor to segregate the kids; when little Slavoj found himself sitting in the main church service pew with his nominally Slav but ‘teutonized’ adult overseers and there was consequent over-reaction; ham and large white beans soup were the cause of a conversion to Marxism in little Slavoj’s house but it was too late to make a lasting impression, rather only carried a certain aroma over to a future analytic political philosophy!

The ‘moral’ of this story would be: If you can smell it, investigate it, before circumstance dictate you must breathe through your mouth and taste it.

And so it was, little Slavoj, despite his infatuation with Vichy’s Lacan and cultural indoctrination in an ‘ideal’ tradition of the Teuton Hegel, grew up to become the contradiction of a teutonically shaped, Russian owned propaganda prig; whose several present philosophical dingleberries includes the ‘Assangemania’ that had only, ever, been equaled by certain pre-adolescence fans of the Beatle Paul:

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^ Slavoj Žižek’s Jungian Anima ^