20: Fuck God
A dying culture destroys everything it touches.
Language is one of the first things to go.
Nobody really communicates with words anymore.
Words have lost their emotional impact, intimacy, ability
to shock and make love.
Language prevents communication.
CARS LOVE SHELL How can I say "I love you" after hearing: "CARS LOVE SHELL."
Does anyone understand what I mean?
Nigger control is called "law and order." Stealing is
called "capitalism."
A "REVOLUTION" IN TOILET PAPER.
A "REVOLUTION" IN COMBATING MOUTH
ODOR!
A "REVOLUTIONARY" HOLLYWOOD MOVIE!
Have the capitalists no respect?
But there's one word which Amerika hasn't destroyed.
One word which has maintained its emotional power
and purity.
Amerika cannot destroy it because she dare not use
it.
It's illegal!
It's the last word left in th~ English language:
Fuck!
One bright winter day in Berkeley, John Thomson
crayoned on a piece of cardboard "FUCK WAR," sat
down with it and was arrested within two minutes. Two
https://sabrinasoyer.files.wordpress.com/2016/05/jerry-rubin-do-it-scenarios-of-revolution.pdf
應當記得的不要遺忘：“The Romeo File.” 南方朔 《世紀末抒情》
應當記得的不要遺忘-南方朔 世紀末抒情 台北：大田，1998，pp.133~34
https://sabrinasoyer.files.wordpress.com/2016/05/jerry-rubin-do-it-scenarios-of-revolution.pdf
應當記得的不要遺忘：“The Romeo File.” 南方朔 《世紀末抒情》
應當記得的不要遺忘-南方朔 世紀末抒情 台北：大田，1998，pp.133~34
170 應當記得的不要遺忘 173 頹廢當道人生倦怠 176 一個卜者之死 179頹廢，以及髒話 182難再挽留 185偶像是心靈的巫術 188「虛擬實境」的荒蕪見證 191疫病也是一種隱喻 194嗄客――嗄嗄叫的政客 197後現代．高科技．示威 200作者的惡意
...that book first ran in The New Yorker’s double issue of April 28 and May 5, 1997, under the title “The Romeo File.” Here’s Garton Ash describing the uncanny experience of looking through his file:
There are incredibly detailed reports on me from the Stasi’s informers, and minute-by-minute descriptions of what I was doing on a particular day…. There are also summaries of material from files on my German friends and on people at the British Embassy, photocopies of articles I wrote about Poland, and copies of pages from my own notebooks, photocopied during a secret search of my luggage at Schönefeld airport. In all, there are three hundred and twenty-five pages. They transport me back in memory more than any madeleine. _https://www.newyorker.com/books/double-take/back-issues-timothy-garton-ash
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