This article first appeared in Counterpunch on Aprik 25, 2024.
The Clown Must Die
by John Kendall Hawkins
Conversely, imagine "the enemy" as conceived by a man of ressentiment-- and here precisely is his deed, his creation: he has conceived "the evil enemy," "the evil one-- "and indeed as the fundamental concept frem which he then derives, as an afterimage and counterinstance, a "good one"-- himself.
- Nietzsche
Salman Rushdie is a funny guy.
I wouldn't say he's up there with Martin Amis's humor though. As chucklesome as The Satanic Verses was -- I mean, so many people could probably relate to the dread/anxiety of being on a plane taken over by Islamic fungi-mental terrorists and flown toward some Western tower for ululating jihad; it gives one the giggles to think back on it. And to know how prescient the novel was (1988), what with bin Laden beating back the Russkies for us in Afghanistan, and ol' 9/11 just up the road, according to the signposts. But Rushdie's humor is not wisely droll like Amis's Zone of Interest, with lust and the leisurely life on display right next door to Auschwitz, aka, the Gingerbread factory, where they were baking Hansel and Gretel bickies night and day. And to use the falling ash for fertilizer in the cutesome garden next door-- vell, vat ribald commentary on the Human Project, ja?
But Rushdie, god love him, is antic and irreverently self-conscious. It's funny for him to include in his new memoir about his recent stabbing that almost killed him -- to include the public domain image from the early film, Le Voyage dans la Lune, with a rocket sticking out the moon's right eye, recalling for Rushdie being stabbed in the eye and now needing to wear an eye patch. Is this guy funny or what?
It sets the tone for his ironic musings that follow.
Like when he brings up Nietzsche's now cliche'd expression, "What does not kill me makes me stronger." I've been laughing about that silly saying for years. Me going, aber vat about da cancer, smartypants? It drains and pains reduces gains and generally kicks the sh*t out of your inner John Waynes, and you do not feel stronger ven it metastasizes, ja? So, Rushdie, hats off to that one. Although, let's face it, Kelly Clarkson sure made good use of the maxim in her tribute recovery from heartbreak (uber pop chart topper) and she exposed millions to Nietzsche's philosophy at a time when we sorely need more backbone in our electorate. Amor fati was back with a vengeance -- und a knife Eternal Recurrence probably, too. After all, those pop hits are formulaic.
Now then, back to the matter in hand.
Salman Rushdie's Knife is entertaining and instructive and, yes, at times piercing, memoir. I loved it to death. Did I say he was a funny guy? Not like Richard Pryor doing that mafia stand-up routine that time. Not that funny. But I was pickled tink.
Rushdie starts off by placing the knife attack back to the fatwa pronounced upon him by the Iranian Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini on St. Valentine's Day 1989. (Hey, another funny guy!) Imagine if the mafia had responded to Richard Pryor's humor by setting his hair on fire and telling him he had to say it was from freebasing. (Is that funny, you f*ck? they'd ask him.) Back on August 12, 2022, Rushdie was up among the comfortably numb middle class 'lefty' set in Chautauqua, NY, to deliver a lucrative speech to the nodding admirers:
I was attacked and almost killed by a young man with a knife just after I came out on stage at the amphitheater in Chautauqua to talk about the importance of keeping writers safe from harm.
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