Here is a piece below that I, McLean, posted at my blog & at the blog of Jennifer S. Chesler. The book that I am describing contains a variety of pieces to be found further back in Postmodernmortem Fragments.
The book is on Google books at this link. It is on Amazon at this link. I cannot recommend it highly enough.
Jennifer S. Chesler writes of people in a manner reminiscent of the discussion of the "New Philosophers" in Deleuze. So do I, McLean. Everything becomes teratology. The human is no longer the rational animal, but the defective monster.
This extends from Tiny Tom with his micropenis to the "porn star" Michael, with a dick half the size of mine. The same applies to the religious and arrogant psychiatrist, Dr. Bunghole, as he is so appositely called. He sees himself as intelligent, but is in the 97th percentile. He is thus the opposite of an intellectual, a monster who pretends to an interest in literature, mediated via the vulgar phenomenon of the "book club". It is a moron that pretends to a life devoted to Christian charity, revealing itself in a fascist policy of turning his uneducated clients into drugged and bovine zombies.
In the earlier pieces by Chesler in her novel Fragments, teratology enumerates a series of freaks. From the inarticulate morons who inhabit "Rick's Gold Room" to the character "Little Jack", a primal non-human emblem of male homosexual desire, none of the characters but the narrator are fully human. The character with the micropenis, Tom, is also seen in these earlier pieces as a psychological freak possessed by his narcissism, in addition to his physical handicap and ensuing inability to satisfy any woman sexually. Here is Fragments at Lulu.
The similarity between the earlier procedure utilized by Chesler and my/our present procedure is that we react to the defective, the inadequate, not to condemn the marginalized, but to condemn those who affect to be what they are not. Porn stars, in one case, men on any level in the first case, or people who display Christian charity and service in the latter. They are scumbags, and that which makes them monsters is the most egregious bad faith. They seek an identity that is not theirs: they seek to be that which they are not in order not to scream in the dark night.