Tuesday, July 1, 2008

He sang his didn't he danced his did

The American narrative has become self-centered and fetishized, flat like Melville prose.  We are cynical and jaded or, we are just plain vacuous.  We have become disinterested in progress (sorry, Obama supporters, Change is not necessarily progress; please refer to WALL·E's Axiom for an example). 

Lethargy only breeds lethargy—it's still the same, just like a cancer.  Lethargy keeps Joe Francis in business, is responsible for Shreks 2 and the 3rd, allows Mormonism to exist and makes methamphetamine production seem like a viable source of income.  It also allows a fireworks shop, a gas station and a hotel to be within the same one one mile radius (I saw this somewhere in the South ten years ago) which can only be described as New Sincerity gone wrong. 

Roland Barthes could have never imagined Girls Gone Wild (thank God!) and it is only Gordon Ramsay (on a FOX reality show!) who gives me hope for Good Taste.  (I'm also enjoying Swingtown, so I probably can't be trusted to give an opinion on Taste.)  If all else fails, just read some Nabokov.

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