"What
is more significant of modernity than the aimless longing of
contemporary culture, of progress - always more and faster,
further ahead, until the scales break. And that is precisely
the point, that this aimless longing should actually have an
aim: the breaking of the scales, or in more concrete terms,
our sacrifice, our self-mutilation. Progress is the cross we
must bear to our execution.
And
this is just as well!
For
there is nothing we like more than watching all those men rushing
down the hole. For we chose a destiny beyond history.
We have no aim. We chose the road to the uncertain, to
the unpredictable. To where lies grow on trees like big plump
and juicy fruit. A life with no room left for truth. Where senseless
fun flows and futile nonsense sparkles. Without head or tail,
begining or end. A life which does not gnaw at its self-imposed
fences anymore but creates for itself a new concept of freedom.
A world in which everything merges into a whole, shrinking towards
the core. Where all that once stood apart is mashed into a holy
magma and finally goes up in smoke.
And
all this is represented in this bony structure which I have
named the Schwautzian Cross. And if it looks like bones, ladies
and gentlemen, it is because it has indeed been drawn from the
skeleton of a starfish. An ancient being from ancestral times.
Times when things were still right. When man needed no great
speeches, no pain in the neck symbols, no cryptic mystique.
In those days body and soul were still one, my dear laqueys
of the times.
(uproar,
whistling)
You
have indeed no more brains than the plankton the starf..."