You ain't even
I’ve always been a firm believer that Harold Bloom should only criticize Shakespeare when he can do better. However, anyone who has read Edward III knows he probably could. The way I see it, there’re those who sweat out art from a painful pore (and let’s remember what Duchamp canonized: that bad art is still art), and there’s the wannabes whose best moment is when they get up the guts to say “your mama”. I mean, yes, of course, “your mama” is a damning and revealing criticism, but — oh wait, no, it isn’t.
Or, to quote the poet, “you talk all that Glock shit, but you don’t rock shit”.
Life is a struggle. There are always going to be two forces at work. One is recently busy defending Lost in Translation as a legitimate statement on something, while the other is trying its best not to be stuck at the same party with those people. Here at Trouble Sells, the Blog that Looks Like America, we find ourselves with those who favor fire; though, to be honest, for destruction ice is also great. Let me also say that while we do torture our victims, they must have Internet access aforehand, and that puts them into a self-selected luxury category that the Defense Dept.’s torture victims can only dream of. Oh, you heard about that, right?
I’d also like to bring your attention to the fact that while in these end times the new slogan of a once-powerful telecommunications multinational is the glyph “&”, as in “beans & cornbread, hotdogs & sauerkraut, chitlins & potato salad, local & long distance”, once the same corporation urged you to consider the limitless future you, or least their customers, had ahead of you, or them. For example, ten years ago, if someone had said to you, “Have you ever read chillingly significant aphoristic monologues by a misanthropic alcoholic?”, you might have replied, with laughable certainty, “Of course not,” but AT&T and Trouble Sells, had it existed, would have of course pointed out, with their characteristic precognition, that “You will.”
As much as I enjoy tearing down the cathedrals of others, whether they be overrated ex-girlfriends in the New York Review of Books or Antoni Gaudí, I must pause to join hands with you all: Happy Mother’s Day. One Love.
by Jack, May 9, 2004 1:23 AM | More from The Damned Human Race
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