Günter Worstmood- The Weight Of Reason. by Alissa Foulmouth
I am in the little town of Turz in the heart of the Black Forest heading towards a local cafe to meet who many consider the most prominent philosopher of continental Europe and perhaps the world: Günter Worstmood. He has recently become the first man ever to purchase a brand new car with earnings exclusively derived from philosophy essays sale’s. Respected by the majority of the cheerful philosophers community but also loathed by its less fortunate members who have to make do with second hand models of inferior quality, this man is as close as any philosopher can be to stardom and has been compared to Mick Jagger by the magazine Rolling Stones, although the famous octogenarian singer refused to make comments on this subject.
The town of Turz is a clean and quiet beautiful little German town with no remarkable feature whatsoever and almost invisible from anywhere outside, hidden as it is behind so many trees. It is among those trees in the outskirts of Durz that Günter Wortmood owns a house he shares with his wife but he has found more convenient to meet me at the local café because, in spite of the many accomplishments of his academic life, he is still ashamed of the physical appearance of his wife that casts a shadow of doubt over the good judgement of this great thinker and makes one wonder what he was thinking when he got married to her.
We are sitting face to face across a marble table with cast iron legs with two cups of black coffee laying between us. Günter Wortmood figure is that of heavily built gentleman clad in black with a boulder-looking head crowned by a scalp of white hair that is balding in some spots giving his head the aspect of an hairy full moon. The stern face is unsmiling and sour, as are the eyes and the big nose in whose tip rest golden rimmed reading glasses that seem ready to attempt suicide by jumping from the nose to scape so much gloom. His attire is entirely black and austere and seen from afar he could easily be taken for a priest or a giant beetle. We are not speaking yet because after motioning me to sit he seems oblivious of my presence on the table in spite of the fact that I am talking to him trying to break the ice. He informs me that he is not genuinely interested in my opinions or thoughts and reminds that the practical goal of our meeting is the transference of information from him me and not the other way around. Then he makes sure I understand this point and requests the interview to begin because it is getting late and he has a lot of philosophising to do today. So we begin the interview.
Q: The reception of your inspirational book, Vindication Of Death And Other Misfortunes, has been universally positive among academic circles and praised as the most convincing endorsement of suicide ever written, driving many scholars to voice their expectations that you would soon act consistently with your ideas. Some had even offered generously to help you to do so. What do you have to say about that?
A: Those intellectually inferior men should already know damn well that I can kill myself without help of a collection of frustrated scholars that believe philosophy consist in stalking young female students through the window of their dormitories with their little binoculars. If I haven’t committed suicide yet is only because the sales of the book have been so good that I plan to write a sequel titled 1001 Reasons To Terminate Your Life.
Q: But you have tried to kill yourself several times and always failed. Isn’t that true?
A: Yes, I tried to kill myself for first time when I was only nine years old and found out that Universe was an illusion of the mind and existence and illusion of the ego, I felt betrayed not only on an intellectual but also on an economical level because my father was forcing me to save fifty marks a month out of my allowance of five and half. I felt betrayed. Why to save money if the universe was an illusion? Why to brush my teeth every morning, is halitosis an illusion too? So I thrown myself though the window, but I forgot my room was just a second floor and I landed on the roof of my father’s car who made me pay for the medical bill and the car’s roof bodywork, also out of my allowance, in fact I still owe him some money although he’s been dead for over twenty years and doesn’t care any more.
Q: You grew up in Nazi Germany and although you were just a child your father was party member and worked for the Gestapo, although he later denied his affiliation and in the trial he declared that didn’t know the Gestapo was a Nazi organization, he had believed it was a sado-masochist club. He said he joined because he alway had wanted to own a leather coat and play with guns. Do you think it was telling the truth?
A: There is something true in every sentence as epistemology reveals so often. My father was a Nazi. Period. And one with very bad breath. But it is true that he joined the Gestapo because a leather coat. He didn’t speak about it, but what happened is that he sent his favorite leather coat to a Jewish cleaner and it came back ruined and with spots. The Jewish storeowner accepted to pay my father for the coat but wouldn’t take the spots back. My father never forgave him for that and joined the Nazis precisely for their Semitic Cleansing program. I still have those spots in shoe box in the attic as memento of my father’s foolishness.
Q: You went to school during the after-war period and conditions were hard back then. The country was in ruins and food scarce, not to mention school supplies. Nevertheless you revealed yourself as intellectual prodigy at a very young age by writing your first philosophy paper before learning to use the toilet.
A: That is correct. I wrote a behavioral paper on my mother for my third grade class: My Mommy’s Logical Imperatives And His Conditioning By Means Of Pavlovian Principles. A brilliant work, I conditioned my mother to cook my favorite dish and sing me Wagner arias before going to sleep. But those were hard times, the school was in ruins and we had no school supplies, not even paper, we had to pick up bricks from the ruins to write on them which made our bags very heavy to carry. The teacher have to chisel the lessons on the wall for lack of a blackboard and writing a simple sum took several hours. Food was scarce too and we were forced to eat books from the bombed library, I ate mostly classics but some people would eat anything, phonebooks, romantic novels, detective novels, or even movie star biographies.
Q: You graduated at a very young age and published your first book on existentialism Emptiness Is Nothing that was an immediate success and opened you the doors of academic world. You were the youngest scholar ever offered the seat philosophy at Liepzig University but declined and went to teach the children of the reindeer shepherds in Lapland because you wanted to be left alone and there you met your wife.
A: Well, I did teach for a while at Leipzig but all the students were older than me and it is very difficult to keep discipline in the classroom when you have to ask the students for help to erase the top of the blackboard. One day I had a discussion with one graduate student about the nature of being, he insisted being was imperative and I insisted it was conditional and sometimes a headache, but he won the argument after throwing me into a well. After that I decided humanity was hopeless and move to Finland to teach in a remote shepherd community outpost, hoping that in the vastness of the Polar regions I would find the peace I longed for and had a chance to meet Santa Claus personally. But those rustic children turned out to be basically feral kids, every time I gave them bad grades they would tie me to a reindeer and use me as slide. I met a local woman one night. In those latitudes night lasts for six months and the next morning six months later I was already married and she was pregnant, when I saw her for first time on the daylight I realized too late what a big mistake I had made. We left after six year when I realized nobody spoke German there and that I was wasting my time.
Q: But since you came back to your hometown you have produced multiple publications that reveal you as the most original thinker of the century and possibly one of the most pessimistic individuals in human history. Less Than Nothing, Negation of Nothingness, Emptiness for Beginners and You Are Fucked are only some of the titles of your philosophical treatises that nobody dares to read but everybody praises.
A: I believe that the moral obligation of a philosopher is to make people feel bad about themselves, about the others and about reality, but in modern society those duties had been taken over by the advertising industry, the news media and politics respectively. That is the reason why I decided to enter politics, to shape society as I envisioned it: a collection of helpless individuals sentenced to subsist in a world that they don’t understand and where their illusions and aspirations will be crushed to dust. I established a political international forum with the goal of attracting to my cause the intellectual elites of the world but in spite of its catchy name, the Syndicated Humanity International Team (S.H.I.T) failed to achieve any significant support for reasons that still scape me.
Q: Let’s talk about the immediate future. I have heard that the rights one of your more lighthearted essays The Dead And The Ugly had been acquired by a major Hollywood producer to make a big-budget sci-fi musical played by cute critters. Are those rumors true? And if they are, who do I have to sleep with to get a part?
A: I am afraid it is true. But I never had wanted to have my deep and resonant work messed with by those philistines so I had always rejected their offers, but one day a man showed up during a rainy night at my door and said he had had a flat tyre and that if would allow him to call a lorry to tow his car stuck in the mud. Moved by natural empathy to my fellow humans I told him to come in and made his call for a nominal fee of only nine marks. But when I showed him into my studio he grabbed one of my books and ran away and he wouldn’t give it back to me unless a sold him the rights. It turned out that the guy was a Hollywood producer that had devised that trick to fool me into sell him the rights of one of my works. I signed and got the book back but it was all wet and smeared. Hollywood people don’t know how to treat a book properly, and it shows! But in order to safeguard my intellectual integrity I included in the contract one clause that requires the producers to shoot the movie in black and white and with subtitles in German and Finnish. And in answer to your second question I don’t know who you should sleep with to get a part, but if you are extra-nice to me I could put a word or two in your behalf with those unscrupulous merchants of entertainment.
A: Are you making a pass on me Mr. Worstmood?
Q: Are formulating an hypothesis Ms. Foulmouth?
A: Yes, very much.
A: Yes, I think your hypothesis is correct. How much?