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Letter post mortem to Friedrich Nietzsche

You are not above all criticism. So can I try to contradict you (me too in aphorisms please and in microtexts) on some of your theses and fixed ideas, but with moderation and with low noise. Besides, you urge me to do so, having written in your Ecce Homo: “I am afraid, panicked, that one day they will canonize me”

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And first of all my fraternal greetings on your worried and profound face, oh! fertile spirit and “good digger of the shallows”; oh! you whose striking, untimely and unfinished work describes the history of your healings and overcoming.

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You interpreted me well or almost by returning to the flow of my genealogy and my first elements. But to flee here and there, you will not be angry with me, you the great loner who, moreover, you make your Zarathustra say “We pay badly a teacher by always remaining only the pupil.” And why don’t you want to peel my crown off? “

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How stingy and reductive is your Zarathustra who has never believed a single word of the messages of religions and sages on man’s misery and his imperfection, also considering them as maneuvers of blackmail and mystification!

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It happens to me, now that I am still in the prime of life, to remain skeptical about your keen sense of terrestrial or lebenswelt. There has always been a desire with you to do away with the metaphysical world of theologians and crypto-Christians (Kant for example) as well as with the infinitely large as a cosmic mortgage. Because to continually take into account the fact that the earth is a simple point in the solar system and that the latter is in turn only a whole in the incalculable systems of galaxies, is to make use out of context of the astronomy, as you reproached Kant who said of her that she annihilates her importance as a mortal being. Unlike Pascal, therefore, the silence of these infinite spaces does not seem to frighten or intimidate your Zarathustra, the inhabitant of ice and peaks, who, advocating the sovereignty of the earth, sees in them the meaning of the superhuman and thus addresses himself to earthlings: “I beseech you, my brothers, remain faithful to the earth.”

-5- If you had lived a long time, brother, and known the pangs of inevitable aging and the slow or brutal killing of fervor and vital energy, would you have renewed your “I persist and sign” on your? pact of fidelity to the land?
On a parallel slope, you with your sick body, have you really thought about health in the long term, that is to say inexorably exposed to the deteriorating effects of time which passes, tires and breaks … The novelty itself, major concept and iterative demand for you, doesn’t it have a variable and contingent curve and life expectancy? On the other hand, don’t finitude, as an unstoppable ontological datum, as well as the inevitable work of the negative, take back your voluntarist and injunctive project of the superman? This means that the column almost absent in your thought is called death as the ultimate defeat of being or the “Sein zum Tood” whose task, as a serious dimension to think about, will fall to your compatriot and connoisseur Martin Heidegger.

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“No one is wicked willfully,” said Socrates. Is it not the same with the weak or the exhausted? Unless your polemics against the decadent people are basically only the expression of your call to the great Awakening and your dream of a new humanity, finally rid of all its defects that you call “the social scramble” “the slaughter crawling “and the” mediocritas to assault the mind “.

Nietzsche the rebel! It follows therefore that in the chapter of the poor and the disinherited, the evil born and the evil started, allow me to dodge your hammer blows and to take the broad one, so that I remain in your presence in other chapters from the Big Book for health and life and for your no to nihilism… To return from your heights to those whom you have called the plebs, the weak, etc., such is my human preference.

The ear that life has given me is so sensitive that it can follow their story point by point and node by node: the history of their coming to weakness. Because this one has a genealogy just like religion and morals have theirs… Do you hear me? I persist in believing that yes if I stick to your deep and ultimate thought. Because have you not repeatedly proclaimed that “the man [et l’homme faible aussi, je suppose] is something that needs to be overcome ”? What comforts me in my obstinacy is the fact that justice, as a human value, has become, even late in the day, the object of your concern and your thought. In addition, did you not say in the evening of your life this admirable and luminous remark, which for many goes almost unnoticed: “The advent of a doctrine, which filters men … which pushes the weak to resolutions? and just as much the strong ”.

-7- As for your discourse on women, certainly misogynistic and macho from every point of view and similar to that of Spinoza, Schopenhauer and even Kant, it sins by abusive generalization and would be susceptible to a psychoanalysis that would highlight your dramatic relationships with your mother and especially your sister Elisabeth Forester (object of your detestation because infamous woman and Nazi informer) as well as with Lou Salomé (with whom you had a short and failed love affair); hence your frequentation of the brothels where you caught syphilis, houses where the woman is reduced to a simple object of pleasure; hence also your feminizing sublimation of eternity, the only one from which you wanted to have children. Wish, in my opinion, delusional and incurably mad!

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Another quack that in your mental universe bothers me and upsets me: it is your cosmology presenting the world as uncreated, without beginning or end, “a monster of strength, you say, which feeds on its excrements” and has for border, it goes without saying, nothingness… But what happened to you so that you noted in your last papers these unbearable blunders ?!

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And this dreamlike vision I had against you: One of those nights in your company, I was roused from my deep sleep by a deafening, sarcastic and shrill laugh that a terrible dwarf threw in my face. Trying to understand the meaning or the omens of this laughter, I only managed to remember that it happened just when my soul was swelling and surpassing itself, and where I had put myself, in the land of the battered. of life and its wounded, and of the martyred of ill-being and oppressive and perfidious hegemonism, to occupy minarets and towers prophesying the death of God and the coming of the superman.

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There is a tale that only comes back to me in the shadow of your specter and your “quidonesque” mustache. May I one day tell you about it up there? Pardon me for my slip, because for you there is no afterlife, there is only terrestrial life and the here below. So said tale I could only tell to myself.

Once upon a time, there was a devotee who said to his confessor, Brother Joseph: “To be honest with you, father, I am not good for anything. My life is an endless series of disappointments, discomforts and failures. I capitalize on missed opportunities and constantly miss opportunities and things. I’m certainly not proud of it, but that’s how it is, and I can’t help it. So please, father, stop telling me that God created me in his image. Because if that’s the case, he must, as far as I’m concerned, blush up there and bite his fingers. “

The pastor, not at all worried by the faithful’s unusual words, had this casual and soothing reply:
“Every black sheep thinks like you, my son; but time playing against you and against all the other poor creatures, you will end up joining the flock by dint of feeling sorry for your existence here below. It has always been like that and for centuries and centuries. The ways of the Lord, must I remind you, are impenetrable. “

Imperturbable, the faithful politely withdrew and stumbled away, pouting and scrutinizing the earth under his feet … And since then, the desire to debate never left him (even with broken sticks, even in a dream) of some other untimely and pointed questions, and this one-on-one with God, around a table in a cellar or under a green tree in the open air, without protocol, interpreter or missionary … not said that God deigned to speak with Moses at the burning bush? So why not with this poor and harmless fellow, especially since, according to a rumor that has been circulating for centuries and some dust, the Most High does not hide his clemency for the fanatics of his kind.

Finally came one night, the umpteenth after a very long and heavy wait, where he saw in a dream a being haloed with light, whom he did not hesitate to identify with God in person. Then he took his courage in both hands, and as he prepared to launch the debate he was suddenly assailed by a high-pitched, thunderous voice, which uttered word for word the same reply he had previously received from Brother Joseph. Terrified at the sight of him approaching him, looking mocking and cunning, then walking away under a tinkling of organ and bell. Then the poor faithful man awoke with a start from his bed, his eyes haggard, his body jerking, and his tongue dangling. He had only one prayer to say: do not end up landing one day, do not displease the Creator, in a madhouse, if you catch the perverse allusion.

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