Few have been interested in Nietzsche's writings after he went cuckoo. But I, scholar that I am, long for
truth, and government grants. Therefore, I present my work on Nietzsche's writings after he went insane because of syphilis (*giggle* yeah, right, and Abe Lincoln was gay!!).
Nietzsche was actually somewhat coherent at times after he lost his marbles. In fact, his first work in the hospital was entitled Weeeeeeeeoooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhh!!!Blblblblblblblblblblbbllblblblblbl, and other Ways to Destroy Civilization. In the Introduction he advocates free love, lots of drugs, and self-mutilation, then proceeds to babble about various things and becomes incoherent for the remaining 245 pages. In one poignant paragraph, he is able to find meaning through his suffering, and joy in his sadness.
I can't find my dictionary!!!! You took it!! Aaahhhh!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! Owwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!
Oh, there it is. Oh, that's what that means. I'm spinning around, I'm spinning around!! weeeee!!! Am I a girl? I cry like a baby, and I like it. I'm so happyyyy!!!! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee....
Only through such personal tragedy can someone find the truth for oneself, despite the fact that God is dead, and truth is merely a perspective. This does not mean that one cannot find true meaning in a God who in fact exists but is dead. This is Nietzsche at his finest, grasping the absurd and revealing the inner paradox and harmony at the root of contradiction.
One can in fact be alive and fully dead, but that doesn't mean one must die as one who was alive, and I can't find my belly button. Where's my belly button... blblblksfdjal lbjblaksdd lbakjfb aldskjasdlfk lafdkj...
If he had remained coherent, the thought he began in that first sentence might have been the most profound thing ever written. As it is, it's profound, but if he could have ignored his belly button, he might have written a paragraph with such insight that it might have taken a hundred years to fully comprehend.
His next work was found in a notebook written in crayon, entitled Fwooooooofffoooofoooffooofofff. Here he provides us with his approval of the master morality of his nurses, whom he believes are asserting their will to power to destroy him.
Beat me!!!!!!! Torture me!!!!!!!!! Aaaaaaaghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghgh, aablblbblllalalalalalalalalalalalalaaalaaaaaaa.
You might think that someone who approved of the strong exploiting the weak might actually, when at his weakest, think twice about that. But no, true to to his calling, he enjoys being abused in order to confirm his views on master morality. For someone accused of sadism, he sure is a masochist. He continues, in red crayon:
I have a peepee!!!!!! weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Cut it off!!!!!! boingboingboingboingboingboingboingboingboingboingboingboingboingboing.
This kind of actualization of his thought, living as he wrote, makes this much more valuable than his earlier writings when he merely complained of Jewish bloodsuckers, women, and democrats.
This is merely the beginning of a reevaluation of all of the values of his earlier books, and many of his "insane" documents remain to be pored over, many of which were written in his own blood and feces, which makes it rather difficult. But with about 20 more years of funding, I'll be able to finish all this and write a book and make millions. Please give me money!!! Weeeeeeeeeee!!