Drudge Retort: The Other Side of the News
Thursday, July 03, 2014

Franz Kafka was born in Prague on July 3, 1883. He was not a well known author in his lifetime, but instead earned his living working for an insurance company and wrote on the side. Since his death in 1924, Kafka has grown in esteem and popularity, and the term "kafkaesque" has come into everyday vocabulary to describe surreal, stifling situations similar to the ones in Kafka's fiction. Much of Kafka's work exists today only because his friend Max Brod refused to honor Kafka's request to destroy his manuscripts upon his death. Had Brod complied, the 20th century would have lost one of its greatest authors.

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Admin's note: Participants in this discussion must follow the site's moderation policy. Profanity will be filtered. Abusive conduct is not allowed.

Cock-a-roach.

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#1 | Posted by Harry_Powell at 2014-07-03 10:04 PM | Reply | Flag:

"Kafka, you magnificent bastard I read your book" - Lois Lerner

#2 | Posted by visitor_ at 2014-07-03 10:09 PM | Reply | Flag:

Crack is a helluva drug, buddy.

#3 | Posted by Harry_Powell at 2014-07-03 10:19 PM | Reply | Flag:

I'll take your word for it brother Powell.

#4 | Posted by visitor_ at 2014-07-03 10:31 PM | Reply | Flag:

No, whatever objection I may have to my age, former
generations were not better, indeed in a sense they were far worse, far weaker. Even in
those days wonders did not openly walk the streets for anyone to seize; but all the
same, dogs -- I cannot put it in any other way -- had not yet become so doggish as
today, the edifice of dogdom was still loosely put together, the true Word could still
have intervened, planning or replanning the structure, changing it at will,
transforming it into its opposite; and the Word was there, was very near at least, on
the tip of everybody's tongue, anyone might have hit upon it. And what has become of
it today? Today one may pluck out one's very heart and not find it. Our generation is
lost, it may be, but it is more blameless than those earlier ones. I can understand the
hesitation of my generation, indeed it is no longer mere hesitation; it is the thousandth
forgetting of a dream dreamt a thousand times and forgotten a thousand times; and
who can damn us merely for forgetting for the thousandth time?
But who can still speak of youth today? These were the really young dogs, but their
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sole ambition unfortunately was to become old dogs, truly a thing which they could
not fail to achieve, as all succeeding generations show, and ours, the last, most clearly
of all.

#5 | Posted by FlyUntied at 2014-07-03 10:54 PM | Reply | Flag:

But I fancy I
understand the hesitation of our forefathers too, we would probably have acted just as
they did; indeed I could almost say: well for us that it was not we who had to take the
guilt upon us, that instead we can hasten in almost guiltless silence toward death in a
world darkened by others. When our first fathers strayed they had doubtless scarcely
any notion that their aberration was to be an endless one, they could still literally see
the crossroads, it seemed an easy matter to turn back whenever they pleased, and if
they hesitated to turn back it was merely because they wanted to enjoy a dog's life for a
little while longer; it was not yet a genuine dog's life, and already it seemed
intoxicatingly beautiful to them, so what must it become in a little while, a very little
while, and so they strayed farther. They did not know what we can now guess at,
contemplating the course of history: that change begins in the soul before it appears in
ordinary existence, and that, when they began to enjoy a dog's life, they must already
have possessed real old dogs' souls, and were by no means so near their starting point
as they thought, or as their eyes feasting on all doggish joys tried to persuade them.
But who can still speak of youth today? These were the really young dogs, but their
Page 331
sole ambition unfortunately was to become old dogs, truly a thing which they could
not fail to achieve, as all succeeding generations show, and ours, the last, most clearly
of all.

#6 | Posted by FlyUntied at 2014-07-03 10:56 PM | Reply | Flag:

if there is one book that truly unlocks the true meaning (or meaninglessness) of life in our modern society it is "the castle" or "der schloss" if one wants to read it in the language in which it was written...

#7 | Posted by NerfHerder at 2014-07-04 12:28 AM | Reply | Flag:

At a glance, I read "Frank Zappa." Never mind.

#8 | Posted by RoyaltyBatty at 2014-07-05 04:09 PM | Reply | Flag:

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