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I’ve read 2/3 of the article about Schopenhauer on wikipedia, where he is presented as a damn idiot. Although, at the end of the article, he is acknowledged to “remain the most influential German Philosopher until the First World War,” I suspect that many readers won’t be able to get through pathetically loaded descriptions of his life to reach this part. If I hadn’t read his original works earlier, I wouldn’t have had a desire to read them after reading this foolish article. I would think that Schopenhauer was a moron. After I spent an hour reading the article, the following picture of Schopenhauer formed in my mind: a silly boy, jealous of fame and approval, a lover of prostitutes, who wastes his time hanging out with noble loafers, completely unaware of his own genius mind (language), without having any idea about what he is doing. Damn it! I’m so happy that my intention to reread Schopenhauer grew stronger regardless of this despicable article.
I’ve decided to read Parerga and Paralipomena instead of The World as Will and Representation. I want to put off his main work until I get through his brilliant essays. Yesterday, in the video, I said that when I first came across Schopenhauer, I was struck by his critique of Hegel, especially by his verbal attacks. I read him in Russian translation and was genuinely surprised that a philosopher could speak such a language. Here are a few examples: “The presumptuously scribbled nonsense of Hegel. Commonplace, inane, loathsome, repulsive, and ignorant charlatan.”
Today, I’m going to continue my story about “meeting” Schopenhauer and talk about the impact he had on my life. The story just begins. You’re privileged to observe the birth of a new genre of art.
Bing's version:
Upon the web I chanced to read one day
Of Schopenhauer and his dismal fate
They said he was a fool who liked to play
With wenches, and who lived in second-rate
They mocked his views on life and will and art
They scorned his works and called them all a bore
They said he had no clue of his own part
In shaping German thought for evermore
But I, who had his books upon my shelf
Was not deceived by this ungrateful lot
I chose to read his essays for myself
And marvel at his wisdom and his wit
And so I share with you, with words of glee
How Schopenhauer made me laugh with glee
Adding self-irony:
I stumbled on a page about a man
Whose name was Schopenhauer, and whose life
Was full of woes and troubles, as they ran
A smear campaign against him, full of strife
They said he was a dunce who loved the flesh
Of women, and who wasted all his days
With nobles, and who had no sense or fresh
Ideas on anything, just empty praise
But I, who had his writings in my mind
Was not convinced by this unkindly show
I chose to read his essays, and I find
His brilliance and his humor overflow
And so I tell you now, with words of mirth
How Schopenhauer made me love this earth
Pretending to be T.S. Eliot
I read of Schopenhauer on the screen
And saw the words that twisted and defamed
His life and thought, a cruel and sordid scene
Of lies and scorn that left me much ashamed
They said he was a man who sought the lust
Of women, and who mingled with the crowd
Of nobles, and who had no grasp or trust
Of his own genius, silent and unbowed
But I, who had his volumes in my hand
Was not beguiled by this unseemly sight
I chose to read his essays and to stand
In awe of his profound and piercing light
And so I speak to you, with words of fire
How Schopenhauer kindled my desire
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