THUS ATE ZARATHUSTRA

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THUS ATE ZARATHUSTRA

by WOODY ALLEN

Issue of 2006-07-03

Posted 2006-06-26

 

 

 

There’s nothing like the discovery of an unknown work by a great thinker

to set the intellectual community atwitter and cause academics to dart

about like those things one sees when looking at a drop of water under a

microscope. On a recent trip to Heidelberg to procure some rare

nineteenth-century duelling scars, I happened upon just such a treasure.

Who would have thought that “Friedrich Nietzsche’s Diet Book” existed?

While its authenticity might appear to be a soupçon dicey to the

niggling, most who have studied the work agree that no other Western

thinker has come so close to reconciling Plato with Pritikin. Selections

follow.

 

·

 

 

 

Fat itself is a substance or essence of a substance or mode of that

essence. The big problem sets in when it accumulates on your hips. Among

the pre-Socratics, it was Zeno who held that weight was an illusion and

that no matter how much a man ate he would always be only half as fat as

the man who never does push-ups. The quest for an ideal body obsessed

the Athenians, and in a lost play by Aeschylus Clytemnestra breaks her

vow never to snack between meals and tears out her eyes when she

realizes she no longer fits into her bathing suit.

 

It took the mind of Aristotle to put the weight problem in scientific

terms, and in an early fragment of the Ethics he states that the

circumference of any man is equal to his girth multiplied by pi. This

sufficed until the Middle Ages, when Aquinas translated a number of

menus into Latin and the first really good oyster bars opened. Dining

out was still frowned upon by the Church, and valet parking was a venal sin.

 

As we know, for centuries Rome regarded the Open Hot Turkey Sandwich as

the height of licentiousness; many sandwiches were forced to stay closed

and only reopened after the Reformation. Fourteenth-century religious

paintings first depicted scenes of damnation in which the overweight

wandered Hell, condemned to salads and yogurt. The Spaniards were

particularly cruel, and during the Inquisition a man could be put to

death for stuffing an avocado with crabmeat.

 

No philosopher came close to solving the problem of guilt and weight

until Descartes divided mind and body in two, so that the body could

gorge itself while the mind thought, Who cares, it’s not me. The great

question of philosophy remains: If life is meaningless, what can be done

about alphabet soup? It was Leibniz who first said that fat consisted of

monads. Leibniz dieted and exercised but never did get rid of his

monads—at least, not the ones that adhered to his thighs. Spinoza, on

the other hand, dined sparingly because he believed that God existed in

everything and it’s intimidating to wolf down a knish if you think

you’re ladling mustard onto the First Cause of All Things.

 

Is there a relationship between a healthy regimen and creative genius?

We need only look at the composer Richard Wagner and see what he puts

away. French fries, grilled cheese, nachos—Christ, there’s no limit to

the man’s appetite, and yet his music is sublime. Cosima, his wife, goes

pretty good, too, but at least she runs every day. In a scene cut from

the “Ring” cycle, Siegfried decides to dine out with the Rhine maidens

and in heroic fashion consumes an ox, two dozen fowl, several wheels of

cheese, and fifteen kegs of beer. Then the check comes and he’s short.

The point here is that in life one is entitled to a side dish of either

coleslaw or potato salad, and the choice must be made in terror, with

the knowledge that not only is our time on earth limited but most

kitchens close at ten.

 

The existential catastrophe for Schopenhauer was not so much eating as

munching. Schopenhauer railed against the aimless nibbling of peanuts

and potato chips while one engaged in other activities. Once munching

has begun, Schopenhauer held, the human will cannot resist further

munching, and the result is a universe with crumbs over everything. No

less misguided was Kant, who proposed that we order lunch in such a

manner that if everybody ordered the same thing the world would function

in a moral way. The problem Kant didn’t foresee is that if everyone

orders the same dish there will be squabbling in the kitchen over who

gets the last branzino. “Order like you are ordering for every human

being on earth,” Kant advises, but what if the man next to you doesn’t

eat guacamole? In the end, of course, there are no moral foods—unless we

count soft-boiled eggs.

 

 

 

To sum up: apart from my own Beyond Good and Evil Flapjacks and Will to

Power Salad Dressing, of the truly great recipes that have changed

Western ideas Hegel’s Chicken Pot Pie was the first to employ leftovers

with meaningful political implications. Spinoza’s Stir-Fried Shrimp and

Vegetables can be enjoyed by atheists and agnostics alike, while a

little-known recipe of Hobbes’s for Barbecued Baby-Back Ribs remains an

intellectual conundrum. The great thing about the Nietzsche Diet is that

once the pounds are shed they stay off—which is not the case with Kant’s

“Tractatus on Starches.”

 

Breakfast

 

Orange juice

 

2 strips of bacon

 

Profiteroles

 

Baked clams

 

Toast, herbal tea

 

The juice of the orange is the very being of the orange made manifest,

and by this I mean its true nature, and that which gives it its

“orangeness” and keeps it from tasting like, say, a poached salmon or

grits. To the devout, the notion of anything but cereal for breakfast

produces anxiety and dread, but with the death of God anything is

permitted, and profiteroles and clams may be eaten at will, and even

buffalo wings.

 

Lunch

 

1 bowl of spaghetti, with tomato and basil

 

White bread

 

Mashed potatoes

 

Sacher Torte

 

The powerful will always lunch on rich foods, well seasoned with heavy

sauces, while the weak peck away at wheat germ and tofu, convinced that

their suffering will earn them a reward in an afterlife where grilled

lamb chops are all the rage. But if the afterlife is, as I assert, an

eternal recurrence of this life, then the meek must dine in perpetuity

on low carbs and broiled chicken with the skin removed.

 

Dinner

 

Steak or sausages

 

Hash-brown potatoes

 

Lobster thermidor

 

Ice cream with whipped cream or layer cake

 

This is a meal for the Superman. Let those who are riddled with angst

over high triglycerides and trans fats eat to please their pastor or

nutritionist, but the Superman knows that marbleized meat and creamy

cheeses with rich desserts and, oh, yes, lots of fried stuff is what

Dionysus would eat—if it weren’t for his reflux problem.

 

Aphorisms

 

Epistemology renders dieting moot. If nothing exists except in my mind,

not only can I order anything; the service will be impeccable.

 

Man is the only creature who ever stiffs a waiter.