The infinitely disgusting horror of the tulip [UPDATED]

Today while digging a small trench into which I was to transplant some salvaged lavender, I happened to glance over at a massive red and black tulip.  Have you ever done, this?  If not, here is what you will find at its flowery heart:

IMG_0455
The naughty bits of the tulip in my yard

My brother Ben, possessed as ever of a particular kind of excellent timing, recalled the sentiments of the Slovenian psychoanalytic Salvoj Žižek on the subject to tulips as vagina dentata. 

 

UPDATE:

My friend Hannah responds to this with a link to Sylvia Plath’s poem Tulips, in which the hospital-bound Plath engages in a lengthy hallucination/fantasy involving a bouquet of tulips brought to her by some well-wisher, but which she transforms into a monstrous presence:

The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

and

The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
which all got Hannah and I talking on the social mediaz about this thing with tulips:
H:  I want to take Zizek to the Georgia O’Keeffe museum and leave him there. Haha! !!!
Me: Yah he has some issues.
H:  whereas Sylvia Plath – no issues there. haha! 

Me: perhaps over-identification with or hostility towards nearby tulips should be added to the DSM
H:  there are some pretty good lines in that poem that would be good crazy blog comments when written in all caps…
H:  I DIDN’T WANT ANY FLOWERS
H:  I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH EXPLOSIONS
H:  THE TULIPS ARE TOO RED IN THE FIRST
H:  THEY HURT ME aaaaaah
Me:  THE TULIPS SHOULD BE BEHIND BARS LIKE DANGEROUS ANIMALS
The infinitely disgusting horror of the tulip [UPDATED]

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