and wouldn't literature suddenly change, you take the works from early 20th century, and further afield, and what you come across is the entry point of vulgarity... perhaps the unnecessary censorship of "pardon my french" stretched for too long, and became all too ridiculous, but, for some reason, vulgarity in literature is unavoidable, given the contradictory elements: you can see a gang ****, but can't see the word f&$@! it's almost sad that we have turned to vulgarity for some sort of cushioning of the falling emphasis, yes, it means us moderns can't contest with the squiggly-clean attempts prior, where no vulgarity was used, but there seems to be a reason as to why we're injecting vulgarity as being necessary, for whatever reason, it's there, and it will remain there, since we're asking the question: but why can he, and i can't?

i was never a fan of hegel,
   i doubt if i'll become acquainted with his writing
any time soon,
don't know, i feel awkward reading him,
and skim reading his *philosophy of right
that inspired a marxist critique,
to only find that the book are ****** "aphorisms"
that are nothing more than lecture notes,
i'd prefer poking a hippopotamus' ****
to be honest...
       i remember owning a doberman dog
that bit into a **** and inside were these crawling
parasite worms...
       traumatic? no, like any archetype
of a scientist i peered in to get a better look
at the kneading mass of worm...
          looked like, exactly that:
kneading dough...
                you choose sides, i chose hegel's
precursor, kant,
   and read him, read him good,
and i found that: well -
   apparently the bachelor saint of konigsberg
never left his routine: he married it!
and i have mine...
   can't complain...
                 and to "think" that germans were
once the thinking europeans...
       to think that the germans were once
great thinkers... looking at the germans now
is like watching sheep attempting to
stray from the sheep-cult baah baah matra...
              there's a sadistic pleasure i get from it...
don't ask me why, ask me how:
for the love of god whenever i read a philosophy
book in english i feel dumber than to begin
with...
         i can read only one philosopher in
english: heidegger, since he toys with language
to the point of insanity,
   and he'll never make it to the bestseller list
of books, language is too complex,
and the toying with "inverted" commas
(commas of enclosed ambiguity as i like to
call them), and the spontaneous italics once in
a while, has already made him a cultish figure...
mind you: the sunday i read the culture
magazine, and spot a book of poetry in
the bestseller list, i'll buy champagne...
     this is one of those "lazy" poems, in that:
i can't just imagine myself drinking,
  i have to write something, otherwise i'll just
end up drinking, and that's not good for anybody...
mind you, i picked something up from
that hegel book...
  the connection between the latin:
ibid. (ibidem) and the ditto...
              well?
     ibidem is a ditto in the footnote section...
again, the joys of paraphrasing /
          using the thesaurus...
            they're one and the same, although
not quite, although: a bit like -
although: not quite like - although almost certainly
quite like...
    although one being in a footnote expression,
and the other in a written section of any
said or unsaid text...
          ergo ibidem qua  ditto (therefore
in the same source as being the same thing
again) -
    mind you, that's copernican for:
     still need the n.e.w.s. to read a map -
  the **** will a 3D earth do to navigational
enterprises? nothing! it'll just stick the image
of an orange in your head, and make you
steer into a whirlpool!
            i guess the biggest mistake is to write
to your contemporaries, but have a stockpile
of books by dead writers...
   i mean: who on earth writes a modern novel,
having read don quixote? no, one!
              even nietzsche thought he was a hot
shot saying: no one in germany has read
stendhal, not even the german professors...
   *****, i read that on route 86 bus to school
when i was 15 / 16, the only book that i wanted
to read having watched a cinematic adaptation
starring ewan mcgregor & rachel weisz....
funny you should say, i have perhaps 3 / 4 books
by living authors, which is slightly
intimidating having to extend the claim for
necrophilia, i.e. i don't own a library,
i own a graveyard.
                 once more: i just can't ****** well read
philosophy in english, can't do it,
i tried reading a bit of the hegel i own in english
and i just cringe, i have enough nietzsche in
english to doubly cringe and mind what happened
to nietzsche: sycophancy.
            regurgitators of maxims - a very pop.
pastime in the anglophone world...
   but i wonder, in summary -
   is it better to tell a good joke,
                                       or to utter a wise saying?
i'm starting to think the former,
       all the tyrannical kings always spared
the court jester, but never the wiseguy...
                             plus the immediacy of returned
laughter, than the mud-thick waters of
ponderance that ensue from a wise saying...
  plus, at least the stupidest thing people can
do with a good joke is laugh...
when it comes to "wise" sayings -
                               genocides can ensue;
ah, right, hence the peppered punctuation for
double emphasis, and the all too necessary
vulgarity.
     p.s. uttering a wise saying only make them
wise: upon one's deathbed -
ergo, i don't believe in maxims,
   esp. nietzsche's style of bombardment
with maxims...
   it's like the modern version of internet spam...
in the end, the only wise saying a man
ever uttered: was his epitaph -
  and the irony being: someone else said it
for him.