Actor Keith Hamilton Cobb website

On Sex and Violence

“Making love”… While no Nietzschean ever tends to use that Human euphemism, my grandfather, Temujin II, would say that no man is to be trusted who doesn’t subsist on a steady diet of sex and violence as well.  Of course, from a Nietzschean perspective, no man is to be trusted regardless, but why waste a perfectly valid turn of phrase for the sake of a technicality?  My grandfather, whom I admired, was a bit of a Dragonian lunatic, if I may use it as a term of endearment; a less extreme incarnation of his old namesake, Temujin I.  Which is to say that a greater than average portion of his adult life was spent fighting and procreating; for Nietzscheans, the most inevitable if not the most pragmatic of life’s endeavors.  And so, to him, to most of us, it has never made sense to create language around them meant, it seems, only to somehow civilize their primal nature.  The Human will ceaselessly put forth the proposition that sex and violence are not inextricably linked, and, in fact, they may not be for him because he kills and copulates for many various and sundry odd reasons that the Nietzschean, generally speaking, does not.  If the two are not connected in the Nietzschean mind, he at least is always able to recognize the common, single goal that they both serve – furtherance – furtherance of race, of self.  In the same way that they are bred to kill efficiently, Nietzschean mates don’t tend to lie together without producing an offspring.  I imagine that such couplings have occurred for the simple pleasure of it, but none of which I’ve been aware.  While I see no harm, and perhaps some slight value in sexual gratification for its own sake, it is evident to me that the pleasure factor is simply a tool of procreation.  Add to that the ninety-some-odd percent likelihood of conception that results from Nietzschean intercourse and the whole mechanism is, as has been said, extremely efficient indeed.  Alright then, so Nietzschean sex has a purposefulness to it that the common eye has often tended to perceive as violent.  But to call it such is just as inappropriate as to call it “making love”.  We might call it, “very deliberately making babies,” perhaps.  Love, however, after all the matters of business are concluded, tends to manifest on its own, and then, most often it is a thing that men do.

My father, I’ve no doubt whatever, loved my mother deeply.  My mother, with the utmost respect, I’m sure, very purely and simply found him no more and no less than useful.  The Nietzschean Tyr3woman, with very few exceptions, is, in the selection of her mate, solely about the business of making genetically superior children, again, for the furtherance of the pride, and most specifically for the furtherance of the bloodline from which she springs.  The Nietzschean men, through most of adulthood, are engaged in generally violent competitive practices with one another, or more often with the environment at large, which will exhibit their superior qualities to the discerning eyes of potential mates.  It is important to remain aware that it is not as though the young male needs to look far to find an environment prepared to challenge him.  The angry and hostile universe waits just outside the womb, and its conspiring elements are more than ready always to step up and put his survivalist traits to the test.  They are ready long before he is, and yet, he is seldom given the opportunity to grow prior to being expected to stand on his own and war.  And so it is often quite inadvertent, the ways in which the superior come to be displayed; the darlings of natural selection.  Thus the woman, not infrequently, can simply sit back and wait to observe whom happenstance offers up.

Once she has made her choice, purely upon these grounds, the process of procreation ensues quickly.  From this point, it is the singularity of purpose of the Nietzschean couple that makes this all appear so unemotional.  Truly it is not; only unsentimental, and perhaps urgent.  The woman remains the power broker throughout the course of the relationship.  In the throws of sex the whole of her emotional energy is channeled into the absolute authority over this coupling.  The responsibility for its success or failure, from a procreative standpoint, resides with her solely.   One outward manifestation of this charge is that it can appear as though she is “manhandling” her partner, but given the enormous physical discrepancies between male and female Nietzschean, how can this really be so?  In truth, she is simply ensuring that the only practical purpose of their union is fulfilled.  She is focused and driven, and I don’t doubt that she can feel the very moment of conception.  The man, on the other hand…well, being one, I can attempt to explain it this way:

It is ridiculous to assume that the Nietzschean man, as opposed to any other humanoid form, is any less awestruck by a universe that seems to perpetually prefer him dead.  While the superiority of his tools for thriving against the odds is obvious, the tools themselves are almost invariably misunderstood.  Others will be quick to speak of how the Nietzschean five year old can, at that age, already disembowel a man.  What they invariably fail to add is that many a Nietzschean child, thrust so early into the harsh realities of post-Commonwealth space, has had little choice but to learn quickly, not only how to kill, but to annihilate utterly.  And even given his genetic predisposition for survival and ascendance, the fact remains that the taxing of the extremest of Nietzschean traits – his strength, speed, intellect, audacity – on a perpetual basis, as is the Nietzschean day to day reality, are not an endless option.  No Nietzschean man, even in the very grandness of his arrogance and prime of his life, walks without the fear that one day he will no longer be able to run quite fast enough, hit quite hard enough, or figure the angles as dexterously as need be.  He too is haunted by the awareness that his life is a glaring improbability.  He too fears death and its marching inevitability.

Picture then the Nietzschean man in the one place where he does not need to reign supreme and make everyone around him aware of it.  Picture him where he may for once, in too fleeting moments, surrender all control to one whose only purpose in life, in that space and time, is to take it and all the responsibility inherent in it.  If he finds himself there in the strengthened, aggressive embrace of a mate, then it means, of the fact, that all his labors, for the present, are concluded.  In the intimacy of his conjugal bed, the Nietzschean man cries with the joy of having been proven worthy of sex at all.  Then there is the voiceless wonder and elation that comes of creating the one thing that will at last relieve him of his interminable compulsion to remain superior forever.  (My father said:  “The greatest harm you can do to your enemies is to make too many babies for them to ever vanquish.)  Is it not then, I wonder, a violence of sorts he is committing?  Regardless, it is a euphoria that he has but to simply be present and bathe in.  She will not rise and go from him without having seen to the absolute fulfillment of that ultimate intention.  And as she struggles, to that end, to make him ever more wholly one with her, his vehement efforts are all and only towards unashamedly achieving the womb again, where he can hide, and where no hurt can find him.  For too too soon thereafter he will undoubtedly be called upon to be superior once more.  And he will have to be.  In those moments of freedom; for those moments of naked, bravadoless innocence, how can he not revere her?  How can he not love?

Is violence inherent in Nietzschean sexuality?  No.  It is, however, most certainly inherent in life.  Life is very obviously a science which the lot of us cannot quite decipher.  Still, Nietzscheans tend not to obscure its unanswered questions with palatable illusions.  We assume, rather, that it is as palatable as it’s supposed to be, cruel and immediate as it is.  Within it there is love, and there is sex, though nearly never in that order.  And there is raw, rabid, feral aggression that love and sex, each in its place, is served by or sanctuary from.

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