No doubt M. dlarose compliments himself for having provided a well-timed phrase, stylized in the low-demotic to suit the sensibilities of those he seeks to entertain, which is to say, the hoi poloi who viewed this film in order to vicariously participate in the crude vulagrities that it provide en bas, rather than comprehend the work in terms of its allegorical meanings. The fact that you have done so, however, monsieur, shows that you have no understanding of the labor, genius, and, may I say, humility that is required of a critical thinker who would make sense of a film such as this one, such as myself. Perhaps if you had read my magnum opus script “Oh, Mortal Man” you would understand the torments that a truly gifted and unappreciated writer/philosopher/cinematic critic, such as myself, undergoes in order to enter the mind of Pure Eternal Thought, and return with sample for your greater edification. Would you not be sufficiently chastised if you merely understood that, indeed, my script tells the story of a man who attempts to achieve infinite understanding by traveling the very journey you suggest. You find this path disgusting and beneath you, my friend, only because you overestimate your own intellectual ability and worth. Keep in mind, my simple friend, that only the most arrogant and bombastic cretin would presume to approach the mind of Eternal Contemplation, tête-à-tête, so to speak. By contrast, the noble, humble (though you would not have it so) scholar, such as myself, would only dare to approach the Divine Thought along this path of absolute humility, and would choose none other. So, indeed, there is truth in what you say; for I travel the path that you suggest -- the hodos, so to speak. It is a narrow and resistant opening, as my script makes clear. The mind must be well lubricated, it must be focused on its singular objective, and it must force its way through what, there is no doubt, presents itself as a resistance though it nevertheless offers the possibility of an opening. In that moment, to paraphrase the words of a famous Spanish literati “the man of flesh and bone”, is the moment when a resistant muscle must be overcome by bone. For some time, the path is clear; and, then, a darkness surrounds one and resistant muscles close upon the neck, separating the body from the head, so that one becomes almost completely a representation of pure intellect. However, it is important to understand, that a mind without a body is not human at all; and so it is necessary not only to push one's head into the Body of Truth; but, also, to draw in, thereafter, one's entire being – to pass completely through that netherwise orifice, into the bowels of purity and art; thence, to work oneself up a backwards path toward the possibility of pure and abstract thought. Thus, I take no offense at your comment for in it you inadvertently applaud not only the genius of my unpublished and unproduced cinematic masterpiece, but you also confirm my very existence as a writer and a thinker," oh mortal man! How frail our protestations be! Yet we define!" Jean Claude Comme-Ça.
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