Hegel attracts me, I must admit. Every so often, I find myself checking him out on the World Wide Web. And I even look him up in bookstores within my reach. Only yesterday I went through his Philosophy of Right (1820), which happened to be the only book of his on offer in the best bookstore with foreign books in the Croatian capital, and I almost bought it in the end. It was really hard walking out empty-handed. The pull is still with me this morning, but I am resisting it with all my might. Fuck Hegel! Fuck philosophy! Fuck books, too! The pull remains, though. No matter what I do to stop myself reading Hegel and others of his ilk, I cannot rid myself of the pernicious desire. And pernicious it is beyond any doubt, for nothing good has ever come out of reading Hegel. Or Marx, the most ardent among his disciples. There is no social, economic, or political solution to the human problem, and that is the end of the story. No dialectics will do the trick, and it is high time to abandon the search for it. But the damned pull remains. Fuck Hegel, indeed.