Savaged States of America- Kevin Beareys
Z recenzji wygląda na obiecującą, np fragment:
http://www.counter-currents.com/2015/05 ... f-america/Serenity and Catherine at the Washington Monument
“The Washington Monument,” Catherine said, interrupting Serenity’s train of thought and pointing to a photo of the old monument in the guide book. “Can we see that first?”
“The Washington Monument?” Serenity laughed softly. “That was torn down years ago.” “Torn down? Why?”
“Because Washington was a racist, an owner of enslaved persons.”
“Why didn’t they just change the name?”
“It was changed at first,” Serenity said. “It was known as the Nat Turner Monument for a while. It was considered appropriate that a monument that had been originally dedicated to an owner of enslaved persons should be rededicated to a man who valiantly gave his life in the struggle against the iniquitous institution of African enslavement,” Serenity said, parroting the history text that was required reading in Multicultural Center.
“So why was it destroyed then?” Catherine asked.
“Well, what it was was a phallic symbol, you know, a symbol of male dominance. You’re a woman, you should know about these things.”
“But sometimes a cigar is only a cigar,” Catherine said, smiling at him slyly.
“Oh, we don’t smoke cigars in the Corridor,” Serenity said, missing the reference entirely. “We don’t smoke any kind of tobacco.”
Serenity was shocked.
“Because it’s unhealthy,” he said simply.
Catherine burst out laughing, then recovered herself and apologized.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But there are so many unhealthy things in life. You could say that life itself is unhealthy, since the inevitable result of life is death.” . . . “Is there anything at the site of the monument now?” she asked. “Of course there is,” Serenity said. . . . .”It’s not too far from here,” Serenity answered. “Do you want to see it?”
“Why not?” Catherine answered, smiling again. . . .
The pointed obelisk, which had once shot so proudly into the sky, was gone, as Serenity had said. In its place was a great depression in the earth, inlaid, so Catherine’s guide told her, with the white stones that had once formed the obelisk. The opening in the ground was of a concave, geometrically-perfect almond shape. At the bottom of the pit was a fissure the same shape as the depression itself, whose depths Catherine could not fathom.
“This is the Nat Turner Memorial,” Serenity said proudly . . .
As Serenity expected, he got no response from Catherine. The beguiling official just stared down into the abyss, a puzzled look on her face. After a moment, she turned to him.
“A hole in the Ground?” she said. “What kind of a monument is that?” . . .
“It’s an anti-phallic symbol,” he explained . . .”I hate to say what it reminds me of,” Catherine said.
“See down there?’ Serenity asked, pointing to the fissure in the depression. “It’s 180 meters deep, as deep as the Washington Monument was high.”
“It looks like a giant cunt,” she said. (pp. 193-195; 199-200)
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