Who killed Martin Heidegger? I did!
All I ever wanted to be, I think, was a German-Jewish
intellectual, a Yekke, as it were. Unlike some of my kind, I didn't emigrate to
Palestine or NYC. Nor did I commit a single memorable word to paper. Instead, I
scrupled to get possession of the very axe that had been used by that Stalinist
thug on Trotsky — how I did that is, trust me, a tale unto itself, what you
might call a thriller — and repurposed it. I snuck up on Martin Heidegger at
his desk, brought it down, and utterly separated the left and right hemispheres
of his brain, thus sparing subsequent philosophy — or "denken" as he
would have had it — endless quantities
of ontological sewage.
Some metaphysicians have never forgiven me. I can live with
that.
you did the right thing
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