The new substitute human, the ersatzmensch offers its consumer five sources:
a) out of the first socket, at the crown of the skull, the consumer can tank up on all intellectual knowledge, equivalent to a saturated solution of subversion and sovereignty.
b) out of the socket at the back of the neck he receives from the ersatzmensch the special courage to practice utmost revolt.
c) the opening in the heart region serves for euphoria and successful loneliness
d) the opening in the crotch fills every body with a sense of well-being and attends to cellular regeneration
e) the final two sockets at the knee are useful in case of insufficient patience
The ersatzmensch is not a better person; he is not a person, for he is only our servant.
He is an organ donor and doctor, lover, partner, brother, nourishment and garbage dump.
Peter Sloterdijk would happily call him a double outer placenta.
Substitute humans can provide for themselves through themselves.
They rarely make use of this. They never have to be recharged or reloaded, as they regenerate themselves by remaining silent. Through this silence and their absolute gesturelessness, they acquire no debts - no growing minus. That, which its consumer takes away, is that which he must take. ersatzmensch cannot be exploited.
There are no consequences.
The substitute human carries its consumer, immediately upon his falling asleep, gently to a new unknown place. He guards his deep sleep and the following awakening and the curious explorations of his client. The early morning hours already yield for him surprisingly different, enhanced living conditions and possibilities and we can therefore refer to this exemplarily as a "the migrant's continually new chance".
Once in a while - and this is its only known weakness, he still docks itself onto dead animals. No one has ever found out exactly why. - If it's pity for the carcass or his history, or whether he only wants to assure himself of his own existence, is unclear to this day.
He himself is non-perishable. If, in an elderly consumer, cell division has ceased for good and a further renewal is no longer possible, then the ersatzmensch helps him to die painlessly and satisfied in his sleep. Wealthy consumers then let themselves be buried with their substitute human, the frugal pass him on within the family or circle of friends.
And so his vicinity means to us: free, flowing, unencumbered breath, open shutters, released from the mast on the ship of compassionate leftist masochism and the ears freed from wax. The earplugs have fulfilled their function, the plugs, which we stuck into our ears to avoid all forms of hypnosis through power and the news - to distance ourselves from things, to be unreachable for a few moments and to thereby resist excitement.
The plug, which we had to stuff behind our heart, so as not to lose our instinct of distance, to remain intelligent and confident, to retain our capacity to change, which the substitute human now offers all of us, for the substitute human facilitates lose of composure.
With his help, we lose our composure completely and in doing so, lose any sense of social cohesion we may have had, coherence that has been worn out, like the much wooed other or own sex. This is not the end of passion, nor the hunt for prey - on the contrary, for now the prey is no longer coupled with the sublime, the eternal, the ideal or other opulent home stretches.
Nietzsche once claimed that we need art to be able to bear truth. I say we can face this first true and authentic social plastic with the help of the substitute human, face the disillusioning truths very calmly and coolly without any kind of illusionary art and then, having finally reached the end, we will, with a satisfied smile, happily pass go with a the knowledge gained that everything is nothing more than a beautiful bottomless etude.
Of course, the concept of the ersatzmensch refers to Nietzsche's Uebermensch. Nietzsche's Uebermensch, this eternally self-conquering, eternally self-birthing, this leviathan of iron will, this continual mental and psychic Kneipp cure, this greatest bundle of loneliness ever imaginable, his whole life no more than a lightning rod and his death linked to the eerie, triple cry of: Was that all? Well then - the same again please!!!!
The ersatzmensch is more a form of sympathetic resignation. An unperturbed conquest of the Uebermensch. A progressive and aphrodisiacal resignativum.
Maybe the myth of the ersatzmensch stems from a certain form of decadence, the nihilism of a man over 40, a progressive state of exhaustion or a feeling of loneliness, which has ultimately been accepted.
But should he not, in spite of all this, however mannered, quite pessimistic and extrinsically sad outlook on life, be allowed to contribute something akin to a clarity of feeling?
Maybe this is the final solace, this most bitter form of ease.
Recently, this substitute humans have taken to abandoning themselves to the anarchistic joys of "catching politicians". They catch these large-eared creatures swaggering around in front of the masses, open their breasts and take out their small, burnt-out hearts to mutually kill time on their days off.
Some defiant people supposedly refuse to be consumers of substitute humans. On the basis of a misunderstood self-understanding, they have decided to do without. Very soon, and history and the practice of docking onto various carcasses have taught us this, this will result in the development of a risky and pseudo-autonomous society of deficiency, which, and this can only be perceived from outside, will suffer definitive temporal stress and frightening breathlessness. This extreme breathlessness will trigger panic reactions and drive those deficient people in droves to foreign windows, leading them to suction themselves solidly to the outside of the shutters. In search for extraneous oxygen property, they will continue to climb with longer and longer ladders to ever-higher lying windows or into deeper and deeper cellars. We will need human plungers to extract the deficient human masses suctioned to the house facades, on which, at the final point of their deficient movement, they have become empty, seducible vacuum plugs. If they are not removed from the closed shutters, they will rain like a delicate storm of shards, on the swaths of empty pedestrian zones, swept clear by the recession, and thereby end all form of free trade.