Author Topic: Scribblings by Laurance Labadie  (Read 320 times)

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Silenus

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Scribblings by Laurance Labadie
« on: January 18, 2019, 09:46:01 pm »
Quote from:  Laurance Labadie
Although I am old, a recluse, "way out" in my convictions, off the beaten path, and probably haven't much longer to go, my observations on the scene around me and all over the world are certainly such as to promote paranoia. Some of my thoughts have been published, but they no doubt have been considered by those who read them to be so improbable and absurd as not to be taken seriously. But I feel certain that in a number of places on this globe the mere expression of them would be exceedingly dangerous.

It is rather trepidatious for me to observe that those who have been instrumental in having some of my ideas published have been careful to absolve themselves from being considered responsible for holding the same ideas. But if they can become heroes by proxy, so to speak, they are quite willing to be on hand if by chance some credit or credibility be in the offing. After all, everybody and his brother is a sociologist these days, and the lowliest recipient of governmental dole can rattle off criticism and complaint with the best of them. Anyone who would in the least suggest that this is the best of all possible worlds would be laughed to scorn and considered detestable. Indeed, the number is growing who believe that it is only a matter of time and occasion before Gotterdamerung is upon us.

Since we all have to die sometime, I really don't see why the prospect should be too disturbing, especially since it is quite natural for each and every human being to think of himself first as far as survival on this earth is concerned. The span which each human's frame of reference circumscribes can hardly be more than a lifetime, although those with children or friends of younger age might exhibit broader concerns. But aside from this, each one's concern is for the present, and for a duration hardly longer than his expected lifespan. That is why all humans are quite content to commit any skullduggery as soon as by doing so their own existence is prolonged. I have phrased this phenomenon as a general scavenging situation wherein each person is subsisting like a vulture upon the decomposing remains of a putrefying society. The reader of these lines will of course absolve himself from this general categorization, selfrighteously proclaiming to his satisfaction that he is not like other men. Those who are not competent to kid themselves can hardly kid others. Perhaps life itself, or mere existence, is a delusionary process.

 But I'm not aware of any of the so-called great thinkers who ever even considered this point of view. Every ontologist, metaphysician, theologian and philosopher I ever heard of felt secure that there was a purpose to the whole phenomenon, and indeed, that he knew what the purpose was. I'll be goddamned if l know of any of these wiseacres who were convincing to me. Every single one of them had an axe to grind-generally in the direction of aspiring to a society in which they (individually) hoped or expected to be secure. Every one of their imagined utopias and heavens were to be havens congenial to their own ridiculous and putrid selves. Meanwhile each of them were busily engaged in filling their pockets from the boobs whom they could get to accept their own particular brand of bullShit.

I have shown elsewhere that politicians, pulpit pounders, physicians, psychologists, lawyers, advertising agents, the military, plutocrats, bankers, and that vast horde of violence-oriented camorra that may be called the "law and order" brigade-all these pathetically vicious bastards depend on crap and corruption as their raison d'etre and the means by which they fill their guts. It should be quite obvious that through the more turmoil and viciousness that exists in this world, the better off economically these professional anti-life creatures will be. Any goddamn fool who expects to find solace or emancipation from this vast and increasing swarm of degenerates has much to learn indeed. As far as the moronic and imbecilic can go in the way of grasping what it's all about is to latch on to the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" theory, i.e. , become a super-patriot, a huzzarer to non-existent gods, and go out to slaughter peasants throughout the world, especially if they don't consent to be the conquered slaves of your masters. " Fuckk you all", I say, as I try to keep out of your sight.

March 18, 1968

« Last Edit: January 18, 2019, 09:49:36 pm by Silenus »

"And the strict master Death bids them dance."

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Re: Scribblings by Laurance Labadie
« Reply #1 on: January 18, 2019, 11:53:33 pm »
Very refreshing and appreciated.  Thanks. 
Things They Will Never Tell YouArthur Schopenhauer has been the most radical and defiant of all troublemakers.

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Silenus

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Re: Scribblings by Laurance Labadie
« Reply #2 on: March 28, 2019, 02:04:03 pm »
Quote
Those who knew [Laurance] loved him; and he enjoyed, especially, matching wits with his friends in serious or whimsical dialogue. His conversations were often punctuated with biting satire or didactic mime, giving the appearance of a cross between court jester and venerable sage. Living in one of the small stone cabins built by homesteaders for the original School of Living in Suffern, N.Y., the small framed Larry reminded one of a hermit hobbit. He was fond of the words of Schopenhauer, "the person who did not cherish solitude did not love liberty." Laurance Labadie loved liberty and cherished solitude. He never married, providing for his needs as a superb handyman with an inventive and problem-solving mind. Larry never submitted voluntarily to a doctor's care, which profession he regarded as having a symbiotic dependence upon the diseases it purported to cure. His last year of life was a battle against the pain that racked his body; he died on August 1 2 , 1 975, having been cared for by Mrs. Ficker, his long-time friend and neighbor. Larry left behind one niece, Carlotta Anderson, her family, and a few friends old and new who will never forget him.

"And the strict master Death bids them dance."

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