If you’ve been to the Google homepage today, you’ve seen the bizarre cubist homage to late philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche--better recognized as the guy who killed God and made that kid in Little Miss Sunshine take a vow of silence. Today would be his 169th birthday had he not gone crazy and died of tertiary syphilis, poor bastard. If only he had the will to power to put on a condom, his übermensch would still be in working order. There is no morality, only the single moral that dicks will be your ultimate downfall.
Leave it to a man dying of a preventable/curable illness to create an entire system of morality that praises experiencing physical sickness as a way of achieving the Great Health. After all, who really believes that his idol, Dionysus, was thinking about proper sexual health habits while his maenads “worshiped” him? Sickness, by his account, isn’t physical, but arises from suppressing your desires. Nietzsche would have been sick if he hadn’t followed his will! (Incidentally, this happens to be the same type of logic that has led Sherman Ave to become the best humor publication on campus--we just strive to be the most depraved, least cautious, and most narcissistic gaggle of crazy people.)
Nietzsche gave us one of the few Western iterations of the idea of eternal recurrence. In The Gay Science, he asks you to imagine what if “this life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more.” Let that sink in for a second. What if LIFE NEVER ENDS. IT’S AN ENDLESS CYCLE. Yeah. So remember when you lost your virginity, that time you met Morty while wearing a purple shirt, when you got into The Keg with your WildCard, when you (or your girlfriend) finally got your period after being 3 weeks late, when Northwestern finally won a bowl game, your first hot cookie bar, watching the Breaking Bad series finale for the first time, getting your ED acceptance letter to Northwestern--all of that will happen infinitely many more times. Not a bad deal right?
Until you remember your first Chem exam, that time you puked Go-Gurt on your crush in 3rd grade, when our football team Northwestern-ed every game we should have won, the first time you watched Old Yeller, when you got fingered/fingered someone on the bus ride to your formal, that one time he/you just couldn’t get it up, when you first realized you wanted to transfer from Northwestern--that, too, will all happen infinitely many times. So even though Nietzsche is dead, he’s really still here, getting syphilis over and over again. Amor Fati, and our fate is to get drunk.
But, really, take note here, sexual health is no joke.