TyG - Baudrillard - God, It's True, I Love PoMo.

But wait.

It seems there is no God. Baudrillard proclaims that there has never been a God, "that deep down God never existed, that only the simulacrum ever existed, [. . .] that God himself was never anything but his own simulacrum" (455).
B. claims further that "if God himself can be simulated [. . .] then the whole system becomes weightless, it is no longer itself anything but a gigantic simulacrum [. . .] in an uninterrupted circuit without reference or circumference" (456).
And what is "true?" No God, no truth, huh? It's all just a golem, created out of mud, the stuff of fairy-tales. Likewise, "love" -- can there be "love" if there's no God and nothing is true? Isn't love just another instance of simulacra running amok; don't we just love what we imagine our love object to be?

Wow.

I do not speak English.

I do not understand English.

I once thought I did, and that I was reasonably well-equipped to read and understand and communicate messages as well. No longer.

I must learn French.

French is clearly the language of the thinker, the philospher, the sage, and Baudrillard is most certainly the modern-day prophet around which today's society must revolve. Even the brilliant Frederick Jameson, a mere American, must bow down in adoration to the thoughts of this exceptional man.

OK, turn sarcasm switch off.

I must confess that I do not follow the vast majority of B's arguments. Small bits and pieces seem to make sense, to communicate, but huge swaths appear to be the ramblings of a human being in desperate need of medication.

Why does Disneyworld have to "mean" anything, other than the obvious-to-any-central-Floridian blatant carny, separate-the-mark-from-his-money message?
Walt Disney was something of a creative genius, a "dreamer and do-er," but I somehow doubt he followed any of the far-out logical rabbit trails that B. argues.

B's thoughts on nuclear deterrence takes us down an argument that will only be countered if some lunatic finally pushes the button, so I hope he's right on this one, but I doubt it. I've met enough of humanity in my few years on earth to have confidence in our ability to commit stupid, self-destructive acts; so why does this man make pretty statements like "Deterrence precludes (makes IMPOSSIBLE) war" and "The balance of terror is the terror of balance"? All it takes is one nut-job (read: chemically-imbalanced individual) who goes into work at the missle silo with a migraine and the means to coerce the other key-holder and we have Armageddon, Ragnarok, Apocalypse, pick your end-of-the-world scenario.

Even granting that a philosopher's job is to come up with questions, not answers, why does B. insist on trying to reinvent the language and twist it into knots of non-meaning? I have a mental image of old Jean, sitting in a corner by himself, just thinking himself into frisson after frisson: "oooh-la-la, that's a good one, that'll really stir up some shit." Maybe his thoughts on lack-of-god are arranged so he can aptheosize himself into the omnipotent not-god of his dreams.

I wish I felt better after getting this all off my chest. Maybe I should have written on Eco.