Sunday, 26 February 2006

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Saturday Self-Indulgence I So last night was a total disaster. Everyone stared at me wondering who I was mocking. I seemed to be a raving anti-everythingist of the worstest sort. I only meant to mock neo-Nazis though. It went so terribly terribly wrong because my typical mode o' mockery is inhabitation and infiltration. To insult from the inside with complete disregard for what others think of you is my modus operandi. I watch The Office and consider Gervais a god among men . . . because His is The Only Way to deprive 'em of all dignity. Only it takes a surer hand or steadier set of fingers to pull it off. So I apologize. I really only meant to belittle some Nazis by turning them into old Jews. I'm on a roll this week though. I'm offending everyone I otherwise agree with for no particular reason. I could examine in detail the reasons for my failures . . . but I'd rather not tonight. Instead I'm throwing you what I christen "Saturday Self-Indulgence." Because no one reads blogs on the weekend. Most of you are too busy leading your weekend lives. The ones you dream about as you do all you can to keep your head off your desk and your boss off your back. You know . . . the days you sneak a second to see what I had to say about something important. Weekdays my words wash away the daily drudge for select sacred moments. Weekdays I'm the violent fantasy life you don't want your therapist to know about. Weekdays I'm modest to boot. So I'll spend Saturday "sharing." The first thing I'll share is that today's my brother's birthday. He won't answer my phone calls or reply to emails or even respond to my comments on his blog . . . but I wish him a happy birthday nonetheless. What can I say? I put the "big" in "big brother." I've been listening to the newish Fiona Apple album. The cover disgusts me in ways I can't explain. They have to do with this photoshopped image of a human and a lotus plant which was ostensibly a woman who'd been infected by some parasite . . . and I'd link to it but I don't want that image back in my head. If I said that that image stole countless sleeping hours from me I wouldn't be exaggerating. Sometimes images lodge in my head and I can't fight them out for the life of me. Even my patented sleep technology* can't defeat it. So no link. But you can see an unhealthy approximation on the Fiona Apple album. Kevin's nominated me for "Worst Soon to be Professor." That's only fair. I'm the force responsible for Michael's dangerous terribility. Without me people'd think Chomsky a greater danger. Two of my three Honors Dissertation advisors have emailed drafts of their current work this week. Sadly this makes me feel like an adult. But it also makes me feel like an...

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