Showing posts with label psychiatry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychiatry. Show all posts

Friday, June 1, 2018

More on Chesler's Fragments

Further Considerations Regarding Fragments

In "Four Propositions on Psychoanalysis", Deleuze does not consider psychiatry as such, but some arguments hold true of it in modified form, & relate to Chesler's book.

Firstly, psychoanalysis stifles the production of desire. Psychiatry attacks the brain's chemistry to render desire an achievement. As a victim of mismedication, Chesler writes of the mental hospital in "Down and Out in Muncie, Indiana" - as an artist, we do not want to stifle & conquer the alleged unconscious, we must produce it - & it is not easy to create this infantile world, but it is our duty. Fascist psychiatrists may believe that they mean well, but as Bukowski notes: there are no good cops. Chesler's desire was stifled before then, deviated & suppressed, but it sought itself in art, it found itself in me. In the story in question, she is seen as surrounded by pointless ciphers, each of them barely human, vermin. The mentally ill, the Herr Doktors, & the fascist camp guards on the medical staff all played out their allotted roles, like all the unintelligent they were unable to be outside of their clearly delimited borders.

Secondly, psychoanalysis abuses language, it keeps people from speaking, it takes away the conditions of true expression, & thus it stifles utterances, that strive to be indefinites, infinitives, proper names of becomings. Psychoanalysis separates the expressing subject from the subject of the utterance, Chesler does not try to speak her "I", except in  the meta-level excerpts alluded to in the previous analysis of the work. She even masquerades this alleged "I" through the character "I" – she subverts the entire psychiatric/psychoanalytic subversion of thought by assuming the "I" as a proper name. The establishment uses personal pronouns as weapons; they are part of its rape kit. The psychiatrist sees the patient as part of an anonymous group categorized, in this case, as "bipolar I" – this is horseshit. Each of them, these various victims, is a unique name, indicating a haecceitas.

Thirdly, psychiatry, like psychoanalysis, destroys utterance & desire by a machine that interprets, & a machine that subjectivises its subjects. They, this enemy, tell you who you are. Chesler defies the process by the representation of an irreducible intensity, though this book is full of placeholders, wasting space while an equal awaited her unknowing, so the irreducible intensity is a failure & a sense of despite, of disgust, spitting arrogant hatred at eyes that are full of junk & nothingness.

Fourthly, psychoanalysis involves power relationships. Now this is doubly true of the psychiatric institution. Chesler's current psychiatrist, whom we call Dr. Bunghole in our texts about him, is a moron who actually boasted that his IQ was 130 to her, as if this were impressive. This ludicrous arrogance stems from the fact that the branch of the police called psychiatry is a medium of social control. It exacts an enforced docility from the unruly bodies of the insane by the brutality of the anti-psychotic. Chesler narrates in the story in question of a cretinous nurse who behaved like a camp guard, a scumbag.

Art should reveal truth, should indicate it & engage in the strenuous activity of thought, says Heidegger. This Chesler does.

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

not readily admitted

Here is another piece about a couple of officious self-righteous assholes from Jennifer's history of shit-for-brains psychiatrists. All these pieces are coming in The Natural History of the Cockwomble later this year.

not readily admitted

The psychiatrist, Dr. Cunt Buggles, was responsible for the rape in question by medicating Jennifer all the way to mania, grotesquely incompetent. Indiana sees women as fundamentally cum-buckets & cunt, though there is obscurity - let's face facts we are seeing as though through a retarded ass darkly, & the moronic therapist told my wife further to meet people by going to a book club, of all fucking things, the nameless Christian asshole was literally wallowing in the cum of JC, the coming suffering of seedy sememes.

Dr. Bugger buckled his shoe, & if you’re lucky he’ll buckle yours too. He says he has twelve pairs of buckling buckled shoes. I said to him fuck you buck you are out of luck & shit too all of it in your intestines wrapping like a necklace around your organs; doctor dear, another whispered in my ear earlier, I am another shrink & I think you’re attractive too. Sex & religion abound in my fields of vaginal blossoms. Georgia O’Keefe painted well. But she was no psychiatrist Biggles or Toff, the shrink that was attracted to me. I bet he had a diptych dick bifurcated into spouts shooting like two nippled breasts lactating down his chest & legs. But he was a flug master at heart. Buggles too. Similar. (Flug is where belly button elves feed, related obviously to the Swedish lint swap ceremony).

Hyar hyar hyar, said the shrink Buggles, Mebbe you should not take them there lithiums, but pray to Babby Jesus to heal yer sole. It’s a sure fire done deal, like, be done cured of the Jew disease, the killin’ of purty Babby Jesus. Sometimes the doctors in Indiana stagger under the sheer weight of their brains.

(a psychiatrist is naturally a medium of social control, disciplining the unruly bodies of the allegedly insane, especially women, though Buggles lacked the intellectual acumen to take a broad view of the big picture, his IQ being a mere 130, of which he boasted. Them there Christians like to kneel before the cross, taking it from Babby Jebus, the sweet seed, the semantics, the seminar, the semen.)








Sunday, April 29, 2018

Proselytizing in Indiana

For your delectation we present a piece from one of our works in progress, The Natural History of the Cockwomble: The Philosophy of Extremism II. The piece presents two cockwombles in all their egregious glory.


Proselytizing in Indiana
 
Dr. C.E. Bongo, Jennifer’s psychiatrist, took the “psyche” part seriously. When she was depressed, he attacked by suggesting Xianity as a viable remedy. He presented a stupid version of Pascal’s Wager, admittedly incorrectly formulated, though the original argument is not valid.


Because of American sexism, Jennifer has always concealed her IQ. Bongo seriously thought that his own paltry 130 was impressive, though Jennifer & David found it somewhat “short bus”.


Yes, sad, but no to Jesus as my savior.


Dr.:  Have you ever thought of Christianity and accepting Christ as your therapeutic recourse?
 

Me:  No, I am an atheist.
 

Dr.:  Think about it. You tell Jesus everything and you are allowed in heaven. If I’m right, I have an afterlife. If I’m wrong, nothing is lost.
 

Me:  No, I’m not interested.
 

Observe that Jennifer is a Christ-killer, so this dialog is pretty fucking anti-Semitic. Observe that Bongo did not say “recourse”, he don’t talk too good, David inserted that to satisfy Jennifer’s predilection for “elegant variation”. The short dialog is obviously wonderful. How mediocre is one as a doctor allowed to be? This person knew nothing whatsoever about his patient. Both David & Jennifer guessed his low IQ when abusing him previously for enabling rape. It seems that he has a small dick. This means that he rates worldly pleasures low.
 

Apart from a stupid psychiatrist, she had a moron for a psychologist. Xians & other cults do love to pick on the mentally ill, since they are susceptible. It seems extraordinary that the US of A allows doctors to do this, but the land is pretty fucked in many ways. 

Me:  I am lonely in Anderson. No idea how to make intelligent friends.
 

Therapist:  Have you ever thought of a book club?
 

Me:  Yes, but it would annoy me more than help.
 

Therapist:  I don’t know, but I am part of a book club, and it’s a nice way to spend time having intelligent conversation.
 

Me:  Oh.
 

Therapist:  We pray before we sit down to talk about the book we read. I recommend it highly.
 

The shrink Dr. Fuckles did not see why the above dialog with the therapist was insulting to Jennifer, though if these assholes were to actually read this text, we recommend that they start praying now, the little daughters & sons of whores.”Hail to Thee Lord Satan, Prince of Darkness, for we bring you the meat of babies, both baptized & unbaptized, along with the flesh of morons.”
 

(Seriously, we are writing to point out that M. Foucault knew his stuff. The control of unruly bodies & all that fascism, but we find the cruci-fiction of interest only as gay snuff porn - the vulnerable boy on the cross, the mother on her knees before him, gobbling away.)







Poems for Jennifer III at Amazon

Poems for Jennifer III by David C. McLean is now on sale at Amazon. It's at this link . Here's the blurb we did:   Latest book o...