The purpose of the corporate body is to reproduce itself; every production is a reproduction. Conceptually, the body is a code for making this from that. It is the body of language that repeats the story. "It ain't the meat, it's the motion." The code is the process that organizes the unorganized, and it is that process which is marked by a beginning and an end. What about the unorganized? Is the unorganized experience an experience of chaos, or, is the fear of the unorganized, reproduced through the generations, the genetic code.

The conceptual machine is reproduced in dialectics, or, incorporation, or , eating, or, fucking. It is the dynamic of the relationship between the genders and the generations, that reproduces, the species body. But this reproduction is happening surrounded and permeated by the unorganized, the entropic shithouse. The machine does not produce itself from the void, it produces itself from the shit. The unorganized is "that."

It would appear that it is an ambivalence of desire with regard to shit, that fuels the fantastic machine; it is this ambivalence which is reproduced by the relationship between the parts which make up the whole machine. To dismantle the parts is to stop the machinery. There is, Oh Monks, a desire to dismantle, a desire to turn the machine off.