----- Original Message ----- From: dsa <dsa at dsausa.org> To: <dsanet at quantum.sdsu.edu> Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2000 1:19 PM Subject: Re: dsanet: A policing we will go.
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> The author of this message is dsa <dsa at dsausa.org>
>
> >Steve Wrote
> >> >>REAL LIVE WORKING CLASS PEOPLE DO NOT CARE ABOUT ANY OF THIS SHIT,
AND
> >NEVER WILL.
> >
> >Maybe Steve can tell us what dsanet topics "real live working class
people"
> >do care about. Maybe someone can do a study or write a dissertation. I
> >doubt a "real live working" person as ever signed on dsanet or ever will.
> >Don't hide behind the "workers" to justify policing dsanet.
> >CPT ROCK
>
> I am actually a "real live working class" person who is forced to read
> DSANet as part of my job. It is not clear to me, however, why anyone would
> feel that this discussion is alienating to those of us who raise children,
> clean at home and at work, engage in manual labor, etc. I am fully engaged
> by discussions regarding socialism versus communism, Stalin versus
Trotsky,
> and the death of Rosa Luxemburg.
> Along similar lines, I'd like to share the following with you that I also
> feel would be of great interest to working people everywhere:
>
> The Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook
>
> (Origin unknown...)
>
> We were lucky enough to discover several previously lost diaries of French
> philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre for
> sale at the Farmers' Market. These diaries reveal a young Sartre obsessed
> not with the void, but with food.
> Apparently Sartre, before discovering philosophy, had hoped to write "a
> cookbook that will put to rest all
> notions of flavor forever." The diaries are excerpted here. Do not try
this
> at home.
>
> October 3
>
> Spoke with Camus today about my cookbook. Though he has never actually
> eaten, he gave me much
> encouragement. I rushed home immediately to begin work. How excited I am!
I
> have begun my formula for a
> Denver omelet.
>
> October 4
>
> Still working on the omelet. There have been stumbling blocks. I keep
> creating omelets one after another, like
> soldiers marching into the sea, but each one seems empty, hollow, like
> stone. I want to create an omelet that
> expresses the meaninglessness of existence, and instead they taste like
> cheese. I look at them on the plate, but
> they do not look back. Tried eating them with the lights off. It did not
> help. Malraux suggested paprika.
>
> October 6
>
> I have realized that the traditional omelet form (eggs and cheese) is
> bourgeois. Today I tried making one out of
> cigarettes, some coffee, and four tiny stones. I fed it to Malraux, who
> puked. I am encouraged, but my
> journey is still very long.
>
> October 10
>
> I find myself trying ever more radical interpretations of traditional
> dishes, in an effort to somehow express the
> void I feel so acutely. Today I tried this recipe:
>
> Tuna Casserole
>
> Ingredients:
>
> 1 large casserole dish
>
> Place the casserole dish in a cold oven. Place a chair facing the oven and
> sit in it forever. Think about how
> hungry you are. When night falls, do not turn on the light.
>
> While a void is expressed in this recipe, I am struck by its
> inapplicability to the bourgeois lifestyle. How can
> the eater recognize that the food denied him is a tuna casserole and not
> some other dish? I am becoming ever
> more frustated.
>
> October 25
>
> I have been forced to abandon the project of producing an entire cookbook.
> Rather, I now seek a single recipe
> which will, by itself, embody the plight of man in a world ruled by an
> unfeeling God, as well as providing the
> eater with at least one ingredient from each of the four basic food
groups.
> To this end, I purchased six
> hundred pounds of foodstuffs from the corner grocery and locked myself in
> the kitchen, refusing to admit
> anyone. After several weeks of work, I produced a recipe calling for two
> eggs, half a cup of flour, four tons of
> beef, and a leek. While this is a start, I am afraid I still have much
work
> ahead.
>
> November 15
>
> Today I made a Black Forest cake out of five pounds of cherries and a live
> beaver, challenging the very
> definition of the word cake. I was very pleased. Malraux said he admired
it
> greatly, but could not stay for
> dessert. Still, I feel that this may be my most profound achievement yet,
> and have resolved to enter it in the
> Betty Crocker Bake-Off.
>
> November 30
>
> Today was the day of the Bake-Off. Alas, things did not go as I had hoped.
> During the judging, the beaver
> became agitated and bit Betty Crocker on the wrist. The beaver's powerful
> jaws are capable of felling blue
> spruce in less than ten minutes and proved, needless to say, more than a
> match for the tender limbs of
> America's favorite homemaker. I only got third place. Moreover, I am now
> the subject of a rather nasty
> lawsuit.
>
> December 1
>
> I have been gaining twenty-five pounds a week for two months, and I am now
> experiencing light tides. It is
> stupid to be so fat. My pain and ultimate solitude are still as authentic
> as they were when I was thin, but seem
> to impress girls far less. From now on, I will live on cigarettes and
black
> coffee.
>