VOLURE'S LAMENT

"I miscounted the men, Liz! I miscounted the men!"

Gavin Volure (Steve Martin) thinks he will get away with a daring and cunning escape from his white collar house-arrest. Instead he gets crash-tackled by a federal marshall. Poor Gavin Volure! Having bid goodbye to the woman he loves (Tina Fey), Gavin locks one federal agent in a bathroom and flees across the law, anticipating -- wrongly -- that all his guards were occupied as this critical moment.

He miscounted the men.

This bizarre and hilarious episode (s03e04) of Tina Fey's sit-com "30 Rock" on NBC, penned by John Riggi, provides a compelling glimpse into the unfolding edge of language itself. The phrase "I miscounted the men!" is uttered masterfully by Steven Martin with the force of a catch-phrase, punchline or slogan although it is none of these. Nor is it really even a joke.

At base it is simply a partially applicable linguistic oddity with an ambiguous potency. The Liz Lemon character, after Gavin Volure's failed suicide attempt ends in a tackle from pop-star Tracy Jordan, mutters to herself, "Hmm... he miscounted the men."

Part-joke, part slogan, a dash of sense and a spoonful of nonsense -- all these factors are arranged in this remark in a particular proportion to each other. They are held in a curious and delicate balance which recurs through out this episode, demonstrating very bluntly the point at which new meaning arises into human languages.

Linguistic coherence and incoherence always meet in verbal comedy but no two meeting are exactly the same and the use of these meetings by comedians does not exhaust the significance of this conjunction. It is like a zen-movement in which sense and non-sense are balanced upon the tip of a sword's blade.

Here it is again: Liz Lemon mistakes a Japanese "sex doll" replica of Tracy Jordan slumped stiffly in a chair in the corridor for the real person pop star. She exclaims, with great agitation, "Tracy, get out of the hallway!" Immediately the living man steps from an adjacent doorway with a sly grin of paranoid triumph, declaring, "Or am I???"

Sure, this gets the message across -- Ha! You did not realize that this "me" was only a decoy. I fooled you just as I will fool others! However it also fails to get its message across. The grammar is mis-wired and blows a fuse. There is a special balance of coherent and incoherent communication presented in these exchanges.

And a third time: When pop-star Tracy Jordon, newly wealthy from his porn video game profits, hears the tale of the horrible killing of Jose and Kitty Menendez by their own children. Fearing the worst, Tracy takes steps to prevent his own patricide while employing the false plural term "Menendi" and explaining how he intends to "ex-cape Unmenendez." He plans to escape from the situation with a Menendez-style result, obviously, but the grammatical constraints of the expression are reduced in a specific degree which produces this new reaction -- humorous and puzzled appreciation. (or dismisall in the case of those who are not sensitive of swift enough).

This is not a challenge to the definitions of appropriate and inappropriate semantics, it is an applicate of appropriate semantics in the production of new linguistic order. The Frenchman Gilles Deluze once went on television to define style as "creating a language within your language." The work of the artist is to access a style which is functional but appears invalid or inert when compared to old existing works. It compares unfavourably to past fashions and therefore has the potential to present new style. This is a balancing act by which the articulator, if he or she succeeds, carries the project of language forward.

When Gavin Volure attempts to give Alec Baldwin the slip by escaping out the bathroom window of his mansion-jail he buys himself some time by leaving a running tape-deck behind to simulate conversations with Mr. Baldwin who is standing outside the bathroom door. A few comments work in this fashion but rapidly it becomes clear that no one can very well predict a random future conversation enough to plan all his responses in advance. The comments from within the bathroom lose the expected timing and start to slip away from the coherence of the conversation. At a certain point in this slippage the audience laughs as we pass through the invisible veil into nonsense.

"Innovation... Tomorrow... America... Sunstream."

That's the narration from a coporate television advertisement for Volure's bogus company "Sunstream." We are invited to laugh as the use of mere mood and associative terminology by corporations to move people without actually communicating the facts. Yet the membrane of meaning that should go between these evocative terms is not really absent. Instead it is present in the form of the humorous revelation of a new stylistic sense -- a very subtle feeling which is shared between these words and their context and the contemporary mind.

The feeling comes across and words are employed but we are directly confronted with the absence of the connective tissue. Or rather we are exposed to the actual connective tissue of the comedy -- since it is humourous delight and social critique rather than persuasive business rationality which is presented. The writers take us to the border where conventional linguistic sensibility would rupture but they do not present it as ruptured quite simply because it is not ruptured -- a new bit of membrane provides teh substructure but, of course, because the new is not recognized in comparison with the old expect in contrast, the mystery is the "absence" of sense coupled with the form of sense.

The edge of the blade is articulated as we pass from the sensible to the insensible, a move that is reiterated in the final descent into madness as Volure begins to sing "Tomorrow"

Tomorrow, tomorrow

I love you: "Tomorrow,"

You're only a day... doh dohday...

THE FUTURE OF ART IN DARK TOWERS

"The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed."

An evocative opening sentence?

Stephen King thinks it is. He claims these are the finest words he has ever written and perhaps we should consider him seriously -- since he is supposedly the most widely-read English-speaking author since Charles Dickens.

"Horror writer" is definitely poor and inadequate category for Steven King. He is remembered by the uninformed for a set of classic supermarket bestsellers featuring demonic house pets, haunted automobiles & sexually disturbed adolescents who can start fires with mind-power. It hardly need be pointed out that these are already a large-scale attempt to re-mythologize the contemporary American landscape. And in the decades since his fame, Steven King has continued his mutation into the most popular, most prolific and, quite possibly, the most important mythic artist of the late 20th century.

So let us put aside our like, dislike, or indifference to the story-telling skill of Steven King. Instead, we should diagnose the primary features associated with the cultural production of King's self-proclaimed magnum opus -- a massive 7-book meta-narrative, entitled: The Dark Tower.

1) The seed of this work lies in a line of dialog from Shakespeare's King Lear which formed the title of Browning's "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came" and blossomed in Stephen King as the odyssey of Roland the Gunslinger in his Ahab-esque pursuit of the legendary fortress which stands at the Heart of All Possible Worlds. Thus the concerns of classical literature are continued into the modern world as an extension of their acoustic resonances and cinematic evocations. McLuhan never grew tired of quoting T.S. Eliot's assertions on this very point.

2) It is rooted in unconscious inspiration. The invocational open sentence "arose" into King's awareness, and vexed him with his sense of its unique perfection. One is reminded both of Coleridge's revelatory discovery of the opening lines of Kublai Khan and also the phrase "There is a man cut in two by the window," which set the young poet Andre Breton on the arch-contemporary path which would become called: surrealism.

3) A ghost in the machinery of the mind. The idea of the work suggested to King by Browning's poem neither dissipated nor dominated his psyche. It merely lurked. It persisted. There is a ludicrous aspect to hearing Steven King describe his fear that audiences would reject the story which was so dear to his innermost heart. Unlike his more popular books, he found THE DARK TOWER to be significant, peculiar and oddly unjustified. Our higher cultural inspiration, in order to be vital, must be a bit slippery, a bit vexing. If we can count on its style, depend upon its worth... then it surely it cannot be very fresh?

4) Poetry is the method. Everyone knows that Heidegger felt this way -- and he joins King in a concern to produce a world-mood. It is the implicit quality of the opening sentence against which all the rest of THE DARK TOWER is referenced, and not against any crude external factors that might be hiding the "meaning" of the work. King's dedication to unfolding the hidden implications and subtle personal reactions of the artist in each 'next step' of the work is obvious and admirable. It goes hand in hand with his devotion to the rambling aural poetry found in rural speech patterns -- which King works hard to sublimate into his own stream-of-consciousness responses to what he has already written -- decode a half-glimpsed but potently felt subtle world which the artist can expereince as mysteirously 'already existing.'

5) It is blatantly post-genre. This is not some little experimental hybrid like "vampire comedy" or "adventure-romance." It could truthfully be called a coming-of-age sci-fi fantasy Western-style adventure soap opera which mingles humor, myth, travel writing, social commentary, stream-of-consciousness under a simultaneously post-modern and classical-archetypal manner with a flavor of deep surrealism and an homage to small-town living. Part book, part film, part comic, part painting. THE DARK TOWER does not cross genres but confidently takes its stand in that global complexity which is establishing itself as the "new normal category" of the 21 century.

6) It is hyper-referential. Now only does the narrative enfold all other Steven King books and characters, even those not yet written, AND not only does it include King himself and the decades-long writing of THE DARK TOWER, but it also compresses different ages of popular culture and high literature into a single vast world and moment.

ULTIMATE DOCTOR WHO MIX

The Streaming Anthem of Cosmic Imagination

boyoehackenslash had this to say:

"This is brilliantly mixed, I've always liked the doctor's theme tune, though surprisingly, I've never been a big fan of the program itself. Go figure."

Boyoehackenslash is not special. A great many more people take pleasure in the opening title music of BBC's Doctor Who than actually enjoy watching the television program. It is popular with weird kids, technophiles, mythology enthusiasts & educated hippie children -- all of whom have a mysterious ability to tolerate the woeful British special effects. We are simply asked to behave as if in the Theatre and pretend that the unrealistic tin-can with the black golf-balls glued onto it is actually a race of malevolent cyborgs that symbolize the terrifying specture of the dehumanized future.

( Side note: The Dehumanization of Humanity into a mass-mind hive of man-machines, or h. cybermechanicus, was the sole theme dealt with by British cultural arts during the early-middle twentieth century. From T.S. Eliot's "Hollow Men" to J.R.R. Tolkein's armored hordes of industrial-power Orcs to the insidious world of Orwell's "1984," we find the same menacing species of Evil that Colin Wilson and the Beatles struggled to escape from. Gone were the days of simple flight into Neverland. Now, after the onslaught of Nazi bombing and the emergence of the Computer Age, the ethereal character of the British imagination needed to stand and denounce the regimes of inhumanity. And this is basically the plot for every episode of Doctor Who. )

This outlandish sci-fi TV program is an extended Aesop's Fable exhorting humanity to wrest control of the technological future from its nihilistic enemies and submit the "system" to intelligent control at the hands of the naturalized human qualities of humour, love, compassionate survival, and delight in the mysteries and coincidences of the vast cosmic realm outlined in modern physics.

Hence the anthem-like quality of the song composed by Ron Grainer and first mixed by Delia Derbyshire in 1963. Classic primitive techno music.

It was re-mixed several times over the decades, allowing new generations of Sound Editors sense and articulate the spirit of the composition. The job of splicing all these variations together into a seamless whole which reveals the shared intrinsic quality of all fell to ReverseThePolarity, who purports to be Craig from Chelmsford.

Well, "Craig from Chelmsford," your excellent work has been noticed! How better to discover the secret of this powerful musical composition than by streaming it seamlessly into itself? After all, to reveal the common stream between many examples is the very technique of discovery itself.

The philosopher Heidegger said, basically -- art is whatever Artists do, artists are whomever produce Art. A loop of meaning. Do we give up? No. Instead we journey around the self-proving loop and allow the common essence to emerge into presence.

Martin Heidegger is exactly like Craig from Chelmsford.

culture is religion:

Go to youtube.com and spend 8 minutes & 4 seconds attentively experiencing the multi-decade mix of the Doctor Who theme music called The Doctor Who Ultimate title Mix.

Thank You, THREE WOLF MOON T-SHIRT

In 2009, the online-sales giant Amazon.com observed a 2300% increase in the quantity of orders for a trite depiction of three wolves howling at the moon on front of a hand-dyed cotton t-shirt... as black as the eternal nightsky.

This haunting mystic image stirs the hearts of young children, trailer park Tolkien fans & faded hippies who idolize the late Paleolithic era. On the surface, this is the worst kind of Kitsch.

Why was it suddenly so popular?

A random (sic) swarm of online shoppers had spontaneously become a popular movement that consisted entirely of giving this one t-shirt supreme ratings and brilliantly retarded "surrealist" customer reviews. According to raves for the product, this remarkable t-shirt:

(1) "has wolves on it, attracts women"

(2) helps you fight crime (by transferring powers from role-playing games into real life)

(3) is totally sweet because it has wolves on it.

Dig?

Unfortunately this textile masterpiece suffers one grievous defect, "[You] cannot see wolves when sitting with arms crossed."

This is a recognizable strain of populist humour familiar to fans of Robert Hamburger, "Tom Goes to the Mayor," the Paul Bunyan-esque status of Chuck Norris, and the irresolvable cold war between Pirates and Ninjas. Despite this, we would be remiss to identity this as primarily a comedic affair.

We are dealing with spontaneous public art. Like soundwaves, this art escapes the museums and resonantes beyond the visual cage into which we put our most dangerous paintings and photographs. This is the art of McLuhan's cyber-acoustic era -- on display in the prestigious Gallery of Amazon.com Customer Reviews. The exhibit of this work is currently travelling the globe and may soon be available at your local branch of the National Museum of People You See Wearing T-Shirts.

Neither satire, sarcasm or homage can capture this strange extrapolation from the aesthetic experience of this clothing item. Ironists and naive idealistic dopes are blurred indistinctly together in the affirming and purchasing of Three Wolf Moon t-Shirt. The original artist belongs among those persons who find true aesthetic frequencies and simply stash them into generic commercial artworks. The comedy is produced by the incongruity between the t-shirt's apparent attempt to be natural, evocative and spiritually deep with its utter shallowness. It's depth IS shallow. Like the virtues of young Mormons, this potency is genuine but suffocated by its narrow and uncomplicated experience of culture. This comedy -- pathos revealed as bathos -- is collateral damage, a side-effect of the obstacle which the online post-dadaist shoppers have been trying to overcome.

In order to mine the original "gold" quality, isolating it aesthetically and extending this theme across media (a reasonable definition of all art). The affective intensities are transduced from one slice of a body to another.  What???

I said: art.

All the easier to accomplish, in this case, since the title "Three Wolf Moon T-Shirt" demonstrates the same aesthetic -- helping to isolate it as a common quality shared between words and images. To say the name of this product is like meeting a celebrity in person and using his full name. Yes, thank you Tom Hanks, I would like that back rub now....

It has that quasi-mythological and post-cultural "ring" to it -- like the bad English translations of Aboriginal titles (Chief Runs-With-Bears-and-Squirrels) and cute Japanise marketing slogans (Super-Karate Feel-Good Happy Time Shoes!).

Word and Image are co-revealing an authentic mood, an aesthetic blessing-force, which is recognized by the soul of the child and elevated into cultural complexity by the sharp ironic instincts of a generation raised in the ultra-mediated amphitheatre of the modern "world."

Next step?

Get a tattoo of "Coach" from CBS SURVIVOR: TOCANTINS.

Yeah, that's right
-- the Dragon-slayer!!! *

THESE F%#@KING WORDS

( b. from Norway writes: "If you are still working on your blog, may i suggest an entry concerning your views on the use and effects of swearing on language and awareness?")

"Billions of blue-blistering barnacles!"  This verbal outburst is typical for Captain Archibald Haddock from Herge's incomparable TINTIN adventure series.  Does it count as profanity?  What really IS an obscene term?

In English we use swear words interchangably with profanities.  We lump together the language of fierce oaths & lower bodily functions, curses, and Divine Names taken in vain.  These are the core obscenities -- shit, fuck, cocksucker, asshole, pussy, cunt, Jesus Christ, God Almighty, etc. To these we add also the wide field of partial profanities such as political incorrections (Nigger!), soft swearing (Jesus H. Christ!), absurdist substitions (Jumpin' Jehosophat!) and various inarticulate noises of rage, elation and disgust.  

Most important, immediately, is that these words are NOT descriptions.  Their content is largely immaterial and we no more expect that "Oh God! Oh God!" is a Biblical allusion than we anticipate that "You asshole!" depicts a verbal addressing of a literal talking anus.  In fact a word like "shit" loses much of their offensive charge as soon as it is employed to describe real feces.  

Over time, and between cultures, the specific obscenities variety while the general function of swearing persists.  Rage, sexual coitus & astonishment are the usual sites at which human beings reach out for a special range of charged expressions that are often, but not always, connected to higher religious entities and lower bodily functions.  

That "God" and "Fuck" can be used interchangably in some situations is very revealing.  The common principle shared by both higher and lower terms of this kind is their extra-verbal intensity.  "Godammit!" is seldom a petition to the Divine, just as "Fuck off!" does not actually describe the manner in which we expect our adversary to exit the scene.  Frustration is being voiced.  Intensity.  A willingness to commit to action and a threat to operate outside the socio-linguistic realm.  Conversely, in sexual passion the ability to overwhelm the socio-linguistic realm with bodily intensity is hoped for, reached toward.  

Swearing an oath of fealty, likewise, is a verbal pledge which asserts a committment beyond the power of words.  Since these are "just words" I could be lying to you -- thus I must convince you with the more-than-words words.  The surplus charge is inevitably an expression of the potential to become physically engaged.

Thus swear words have a double-function.  They are a way in which the boundary condition of language attempts to language itself & they are an invocation of physicality. If culture is very broadly defined it becomes the entire set of novel outcomes derived from the ongoing 'matching' of symbol to energy, word to life, form to substance, theory to fact, etc.  The merger of the semantic and energetic is the ongoing concern of poets, philosophers, psychoanalytic patients, scientists, politicians... everyone.  It is THE continuing event which characterizes human History.  My bestial nature may which to scream at you but I have the words with which to say, "I disagree."  Language is creatively mapped upon our channels of feeling and action.  

"Fuck it!" represents an incomplete mapping.  So does "Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrgh!"  So does "God only knows!"  We may, in good company, prefer one term to another but essentially they all indicate that the operation of langauging has gone off the rails -- as surely as do H.P.Lovecraft's classic use of "unspeakable, indescribable cosmic horrors."  

We are languaging the failure of languaging.  This has two sides, as mentioned earlier: a disconnect, or twist, relative to our symbol system & a breaking free of the partially-languaged bodily energies.

The symbolic disconnect -- words for non-speak -- is what I call "the blank tile."  This intensely ambiguous half-symbol is found on television as the BLEEP of censorship.  Interestingly, one does not even have to BLEEP a real obscenity to get the same effect.  The signal of "necessarily cancelled signal" on its own can provoke human excitement.  

A metaphor for understanding this process can found in the graph displays of digital music.  When the levels are functioning properly they do so within given limits.  A very loud noise or a disruptive feedback effect will cause the levels to "spike" off the chart.  There is still sound but the function has become impaired.  Listening to a uneducated street punk employ a phrase such as "That fuckin' Fuck was all up in my face 'n' shit!"  we readily observe that his linguistic register is failing.  Each attempt at description exceeds the useful limits of his terminology, creating a rupture which is patched over with cursing.  

Swearing is the application of ritualized units of contracted non-speak (the blank tiles) to indicate the limited adequacy of verbal expression. 

However, ignorance is not the only motive for such a function.  One may wish to emphasis one's body energies to another person by priviliging them over and above the descriptive syntax of speech.  Lovers routinely employ profanities in a generally positive and loving fashion because it helps them to access a shifting realm of shared body energies occuring prior to speech.      

Sensitive lovers often enter into the following dilemma: while desiring to access intensity through the free use of the cultural obscenties one simultaneously does not wish to resemble those who commonly employ and affirm such obscentities.  I.e., How can we have porn pleasure without being porn people?

Another common conundrum relates to children's access to and employment of these terms.  It is well known that the attempt to eradicate "bad, dirty, ugly" symbols is symptomatic of a corrupt cultural matrix.  However, this knowledge does not entirely meet the needs of parents.  Can we sear around the child?  What do we do if the child swears?  etc.

It is both trite and unrealistic to "not swear about the child" -- since this inevitably becomes the usage of idiotic faux-swearing with periodic interruptions associated with moments of actual extreme upset during which the language rules no longer apply.  Daddy resolves to say 'bum' instead of 'ass.'  As as result he sounds like a dork most of the time and says 'ass' only when he's really upset!  However, none of this diminishes the importance of being attentive, positive and developmental with speech patterns in the home.

The key factor is to remember that all language is context specific.  It is quite legitimate to enforce rules such as "words we don't say around granny" or "language we don't use at the dinner table."  As soon as one tries to condemn or eliminate categories of expression all together one is destined for failure and ridiculosity.  It simply does not matter how often a child says "Motherfucker!" but it certainly matters that a child can readily access more precise terminology, can switch fluidly between body-express and sociable speach, and can easily tailor its words to its circumstance.  

"Shut up, you cunt!" is a gesture of bad faith when speaking with most grannies, just as invoking "God's Will  is often an equivalent gesture of bad faith  in academic and rational discourse.  Neither "cunt" nor "god" is always inapprporiate -- but out of context the terminology becomes weaponized (sic).

When we make a gesture of bad faith toward an appropriate discourse we also make such a gesture toward Language generally.  Thus it may appear alarming that there is a tide of open profanity in the current age.  The philosopher Martin Heidegger even claimed that Language has Language has withdrawn itself from the Modern world.  Certainly the pandemic of "fucking," "whatever," and "like" can seem daunting but we are, at the same time, in the age most conversant with the principle of creative languaging.  

There is a beautiful and musical usages of these bodily expressions of non-speak found cinematically in Cohen Brothers films, Tarantino films, "The Wire," etc.  Here we see the playful languaging of the languaging of the apparent failure of languaging.  Smooth and ironic.  Lovely.  However we must face up to the fact that most irony is really just ignorance and cynicism.  I may be in love with the rhythms and language-exceeding shape of "Those fuckin' guys!  This whole fuckin' thing!" -- but I confess also to the belief that most people swear as an inadvertant confession of the incomplete docking between their energetic experience and their socially acquired symbols.

In order to think rationally about language it is critical to have already exceeded your automated and irrational responses to the implications of terms.  This is the precondition for sensible allowing and disallowing.  The ready means of self-learning on this topic is simply to repeat, in a relaxed, attentive manner, any word which presents itself with a slight cringe.  This bodily or emotional recoil may be great or small, may be obviously "your reaction" or vaguely "your idea that someone might react."  Such attentive repetive proceeds rapidly to a spontaneous release of the negative implications.  

On such a basis a rational attitude may develop.

WHAT WE LEARN FROM CHOMSKY v. BUCKLEY

a LEFT hook
RIGHT to the face

The 1969 televised spectacle of debacle between Messrs. William F. Buckley and Noam Chomsky is widely available on the various free viewing “tubes” of the World Web. Mr. Buckley is a titan of neo-conservative punditry whose fabulously resonant simpering and hyper-articulate ejaculations helped shape a generation on the Right wing of American politics. His formidable opponent, Mr. Chomsky, holds a similar status on the Left and is renown for his bewilderingly competent grasp of the published facts and his arch-rational speaking style.

Left vs. Right. Morality vs. Ethics. The Intellectual Consensus of the Culture vs. the Critical Consensus of the International Arena.

This video is little gem whose flashiest facet is the unexpectedly REAL threat that Mr. Buckley makes re: punching Mr. Chomsky right in the face. Both men are used to dominating conversations, eluding questions, and talking over other people while maintaining a pose of righteous reasonableness. The tension runs high and we can delight in their nearly domestic refusal to fully listen to each other's comments. In some sense they cease to be mere historical men and become the avatars of twin tendencies within the cultural field of modern democratic capitalism, the White & Red dragons of myth... or the White & Red wings of one dragon.

When their frustration mutually peaks we see that Mr. Chomsky struggles to get “on top” of his anger and tries to confess it within the stream of social discourse. Mr. Buckley, on the other hand, embodies his rage in a quick flash that betrays more than a little of the narcissistic poseur. One climbs up out out his uncomfortable feelings, heading for the mind, while the other descends into physicality and general theatrics. Is this a key to the Left/Right split in social dynamics? It is the little known position of the Neo-Reichians that Conservative Emotional Pathology maintains a vital but perverted connection to the bodily core – the “gut” -- while the Liberal Emotional Pathology orbits up the surface of the body and replaces the gut with the mind. These are hardly firm divisions but they are endlessly suggestive... and fit very nicely with theories like the following:

Conservatives are interiorists, locating the source of social problems within the feelings, beliefs and choices of individuals while Liberals are exteriorists who locate the trouble in the actual conditions, materials and habits of the society.

(And if you are too frail for general categorizations please insert “tends to” wherever you like...)

Another gorgeous facet of the discussions dazzles out when they come upon the question of whether Imperialism totally or only partially characterizes any given political regime. Mr. Buckley leaps upon this point, calling it a clear “observable” difference. Mr. Chomsky blurts out a correction, saying it obviously a “conceptual” distinction. Each is citing his own medium when he tries to assert his message.

Even more wonderful! Mr. Chomsky denounces hypocrisy among rapacious and idealistic States... but he does admit “some exceptions.” Mr. Buckley naturally assumes this as a reference to the class of morally laudable exceptions who can truly “walk their talk.” He is quickly corrected by Mr. Chomsky who, it turns out, meant only to say that a few Nations are entirely rapacious and do not even bother with the rhetoric of virtue.

Our Leftist believes that the hidden, problematic motives in rational societies are revealed by a negative sub-class of pure maniacs. Our (curiously effeminate) Rightist assumes that a positive sub-class must be elevated over the obviously problematic nature of society. The former is illuminating the difficulties in the actual implementation of ethical agendas, while the latter is highlighting the ideals that must be incorporated at the site of the social dilemma being considered. I read these as complementary assignments, mutual functions – the healthy Left and Right wings of the same bird.

One group is built to locate the precise site of the antagonism by raising a flag of cultural ideals above this pit. It does this intuitively, by feeling out its own refined responses and filtering them through the matrix of traditionally-established popular concepts. In my mind the Right is the diagnostician and the Left is the giver of prescriptions. An adequate strategy cannot be produced by gut-feeling and idealism since, it is endless revealed through history, the best intentions lead straight to Hell. A decent program for action must bypass the specific cultural ideals and harness all the available data in an manner that is orchestrated by the ethical operating-instructions for beneficial engagements with Others.

Conservatives are not built for analysis or strategic implementation. Progressive Social-Liberals are not built to identify the actual sources of trouble.

We need Liberal Solutions to Conservative Problems. Not a third-way fusion but a re-engagement of the natural sociological function which both parties are already attempting to perform.

Among, say, the abortions, we might look to the Right to locate the fundamental question and mark it with an imperative ideal. So "We must not kill babies!" is read as meaning that the question of babyhood is THE essential site of the dilemma which assails us its pressurized moral potency. Yet the destruction, banning, etc. of abortion clinics is a feeble and barbaric solution. The Right is not solution oriented. There are too many ambiguities and troubling feelings among the facts upon which good, ethical strategy must be based -- they are too sensitive for that. They would rather reject the dissonance by turning it over to a God, Law or the motives of Heathens. The trend to seek solutions in ancient myth, gossip and popular emotionalism is quite obviously an abdecation of Implementation.

Or consider the right-wing instinct toward social hierarchy -- a fine idea, except... that conservative authoritarians do not occupy the upper levels.

The trend to It must be left to Liberals to make the fine distinctions between a mere fetal mass and a functional, anthropomorphic utero-person... taking their cue from the general (but demystified) Conservative estimation, marked by an absolute/ideal flag. Without such guidance, the Progressive sentiments may simply produce a suffocating mass of rules against offensiveness, set against a backdrop of paralyzing relativism.

In the matter of having a Left and Right hand we would be complete fools to fuse them, to cut one off, to deny their difference or to take turns – switching every four or eight years.

Our “permissive culture” is organically sensed by the Conservative as a problem of the absence of shared disciplinary virtues. When they propose virtues that are found in dusty tomes from ancient lands which they themselves pervert and deny in their “unwatched private spaces” we know simply that they are not in the business of providing those disciplinary virtues. The source of practical virtues must come from those variation-tolerating, fact-admitting, self-critical Liberal Progressives.

The last beautiful bit to mention is that Chomsky slips his tongue and refers to “The Greeks” simply as “Greek” -- mistaking the people for their language-category. Exquisite!

What the heck does "uber-dubious" mean?

WHAT THE HECK DOES “UBERDUBIOUS” MEAN

I coined this term to describe an increasingly common event in literary & dramatic structure, “a state of extreme cahoots betwixt the narrative and its own contents in which is attempted a doubling of sublime mistrust.” Uber (ultra) dubious material is designed to enhance the direct experience of the mutual core that is shared between faith & mistrust. It violates the categories of belief and disbelief and thus immediately displays their common functioning principle.

It is this sort of function that motivates human societies in the collective-ideological dimension of their being. It is generally invisible, concealed by its subtlety when in juxtaposition with crude stories & representational suggestions – such as comprise the obvious bulk of any communicative work. Only by short-circuiting our messages, in a skillful manner, can we stare directly into this other dimension at which site is manufactured the un-proclaimed operating instructions for social beings.

One powerful way to gain such access is through the experience of harmlessly suspected mistrust. Think of the feelings and subliminal ideation that occurs in the viewer when Rod Serling suddently steps from behind a door and explains that the story you are watching is contained within a weird, distorted semantic field he names THE TWILIGHT ZONE. It isn't dangerous, but still – what the heck is he up to??? This is normal pleasant distrust. We experience it when we watch a kitten or a puppy being obvious in their attempt to sneak up on us and pounce! Whenever Calvin, from Watterson's CALVIN & HOBBES, approach the door of his home he is seized by the ordinary emotion of playful yet ominous suspicion. Already this experience draws us intimately towards the screen of deeper sub-symbolic exchanges – but for many this is a damnably elusive pursuit and so attempts are made to amplify the experience. Such magnifications are what I happily refer to as uber-dubious.

To better explain the distinction between the merely dubious & the uber-dubious I usually invoke the comparison of Melville's MOBY DICK with Hurwitz's three-season sit-com ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT. Remember Melville's opening passage: Call me... Ishmael. We the readers are instantly invited to regard the narrator-protagonist as a highly suspect personage (HSP). If the the text is willing to deceive to you immediately and openly concerning the identities of its own characters then how can we possibly believe any of it? It opens by casting doubt upon its own capacity to function as the “I” who tells the tale.

Melville's first authorial act is to require a suspension of belief to overlap the ordinary suspension of disbelief that enables access to an imagined storyline. In order to believe him – you must suspect him of not being believable. This should cause us considerable alarm! If the Narrator cannot be relied upon then THERE IS NO STORY. And yet... the story goes on.

Although widely denounced in its day for being “terrible writing” it slowly ascended into that still rare circle of modern texts that can compete with the Sacred Classics of the older civilizations. Despite its perverse denial of the very premise of literature it exerts powerful literary influence. We all recall the archetypical Captain Ahad in his obsessive, peg-legged pursuit of God & that god damned White Whale. He was played for us by the original George Clooney -- Gregory Peck -- and later by the inimitable and hilarious Patrick Stewart. And what about Starbuck? His name has entered the public lexicon along with a vague recollection of the great tattooed Aborigine: Queequeg. How has this occurred if the text denies us the opportunity to enter its world by relinquishing its claim to minimal validity?

The answer, clearly, is that we can enter into this world despite the dubiousity of Narrator. In fact it turns out that belief in the text and its claims are not essential to the effects of the works. We must assume that faith in the Speaker, in his claims, and in his attitude toward what he enunciates is not considerably important to the functioning of the work.

Obviously this has grave implications for social theory. It suggest the premise that “beliefs” are not significant motivators. The stories exchanged as belief systems, the apparent attitudes toward these stories & the references to authoritative structures ARE NOT the signals that define our social space and behaviours. These are mere narration-factors.

This is a dubious matter, sure, but electronica has gone even further – though with less depth and consideration --than Herman Melville. In order to see how this revelation of the disbelieving kernel of belief can be magnified let us consider ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT. The Voice Over narration is provided by the wholesome child-star and populist film director Ron Howard whose sense of nostalgic sincerity is rivalled only by the narrator of “The Wonder Years” and the paternal benevolence of Ronald Reagan. It is the sound of the well-meaning rural volk. Hurwitz deploys it alongside the sinister ignorance and obscenely layered misinterpretations of the once-prominent Bluth clan. Periodically a contradiction will arise between the claims of the narrator and those of a character. For example, the emotionally retarded stage-magician G.O.B. (George Oscar Bluth, a.k.a. “Jobe”) announces that he has sexually consummated his marriage to a woman who sells seals. Ron Howard, hovering like the watchful Jehovah in his primal garden, denies and has already denied claim. Now we are at that place of absurdity which Melville invoked – the impossible contradiction in which the narrator's status is cancelled by its pretense. Jobe did not catch God -- the text itself -- off guard with his claim! Very dubious. It becomes uber-dubious when this failed magician, apparently oblivious to the narrator, nonetheless restates him claim as if it had been challenged.

Variations on this pattern occur through the three seasons of the show. The dubious narrator routine is intensified by the disagreement of narrated characters who are embedded in the text only by means of their pretended alienation from the self-expression of the text which they reveal by a deliberately falsified attempt to act if their conflict with the narrative were totally coincidental and in no way a response to the dubious narrator.

This is UBER-DUBIOUS narration.

HOW WAS THE CIRQUE DU SOLEIL?

or: THE CIRQUE JERK


Don't get me wrong. I did have a good time at the Cirque du Soleil. I had to have a good time at the Cirque du Soleil. It's the Law. And it is about this very legislation that I wish to speak.

Wait -- was the performance very impressive? Yes.

Was their visionary SALTIMBANCO SHOW a delirious matrix of colour & sound that mixed the aesthetic of hyper-spatial elves with the vigorous posturing of a 19th century dance instructor? Yup! Was it a psychedelic potpourri of “old world charm” with a liberal dash of cool futurism” to dazzle the audience? Sure. Of course it was. And so I liked it. I really did. But I also felt obliged to like it (which I did not like).

Perhaps I shouldn't be saying this out loud. I ought to have just clear, simple emotions. Vague and complicated emotions are highly suspicious. One should never say in public: “Of course I'm against Hitler, but...” Ambiguity may be severely misconstrued.

The Law says: I have to enjoy the Cirque du Soleil. Everyone enjoys the Cirque du Soleil! The People have agreed. So my ambiguity puts me at risk. My little words might be misunderstood as a revelation of wickedness.

Yet, I beg you, before denouncing me, before calling me “Scrooge McAudienceMember,” or some other equally bizarre insult (that no one but me would ever come up with) please try to remember -- I found Cirque to be very, very enjoyable. In fact, I found that “it” was very enjoyable even if I didn't enjoy myself!

You follow?

No, of course you don't. How could I NOT enjoy that which I found to be enjoyable? Aren't I the subject of my own enunciation? Yeesh. I am now speaking a language of two-faced abstractions, gibber-jabberish which is normally reserved for discussing “European post-structuralist cultural theories.” If such things even exist!

I'll try to explain more simply:

I was astonished. Which is what I expected. So in that respect, I was not astonished.

Simple but loopy. Two things where every One thing should be. Footage & bonus footage on the same screen. Am I advanced or insane? Or do both these options give me too much credit? When I told folks that my wonderful extended family (and they really, truly are wonderful) was giving me a FREE TICKET to the Cirque du Soleil, and maybe -- if the Gods of Valhalla were on our side – a BACKSTAGE PASS.... well, I had mixed feelings. After all, how could I tell if I really, really wanted to go? Maybe my desire was being manipulated by the invisible social context in which I am embedded? Perhaps I assumed that people-in-general want to see Cirque and so I reflected “their” desire back onto myself?

Is there even such as thing as “really wanting”?

I decided to ask around. I told my problems to lovely young café baristas, street bums, bus stop waifs & various bourgeois business owners of my acquaintance. I said, Listen: I get to go to Cirque du Soleil but I'm not sure I should. I wanted to get a mixed set of opinions.

No luck.

Every single person told me the same damned thing. I mean Every Single Person I talked to gave me a variation of this one response: “What? You've got to go! Cirque du Soleil is great. I saw them Somewhere or heard Something about them once. They're very entertaining & sophisticated. You have to go.”

I have to go. There it is -- the Law.

They didn't try to sell me on the significance of the event. No one said, “Hey, Cirque is a lively, colourful window into the thrilling depths of the body's own imagination, a lifting of the cellular mystery-power into such refinement that it reveals the first authentic glimmerings of a truly GLOBAL form of human culture.” Nope, no one said that. Nobody tried to astound me by claiming that Cirque is “basically like David Lynch directing a kindergarten performance of 'Puff the Magical Dragon' with a cast of all Olympic athletes.”

Instead, they invoked a moral argument:

A. It is the solemn duty of all citizens to be entertained.
B. Cirque du Soleil is GOOD entertainment
C. Thus all citizens must go to Cirque.

Who can argue with pure logic?

So off I went. Of course I did. I had to. I sat watching acrobats, dancers, gymnasts, jugglers & innumerable juicy-jigglers as they interlaced their well-toned & well-trained bodies into a seemingly endless cavalcade of unnatural hieroglyphs of the flesh. Just as I expected. And, while they got the spotlight, my own Herculean efforts went undetected in the darkness.

I did all that “audience work.” The Law decrees I must. I had to constantly recollect what normal body movements look like, comparing & contrasting them to the acrobatics on stage. I had to note all the pertinent differences and then pump out the appropriate brain chemicals. I was required to pick out certain “best moments in the show” after which I had to enthusiastically holler & clap and -- to top it all off -- I had to to synchronize all my actions with the rest of my fellow audience members.

Exhausting. Too bad I had no choice.

Hopefully, therefore, you will understand that when people ask me, “How was it?” I shall be forced by truthfulness to say: “Well, I liked it, but....”

My over-all conclusion about Cirque du Soleil?

“I liked it, but!”

(And don't go editing this footage later so it sounds like I'm saying: I LIKE BUTT! That would be childish & just plain WRONG.)

WHY SHAKESPEARE IS HILARIOUS

why shakespeare is hilarious


Hamlet: Denmark's a prison.
Rosencrantz: Then is the world one.
Hamlet: A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards & dungeons – Denmark being one o' the worst.
Rosencrantz: We think not so, my lord.
Hamlet: Why then 'tis none to you – for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so; to me it is a prison!
Rosencrantz: Why then your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind.
Hamlet: O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space -- were it not that I have bad dreams...

-Wm. Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act II Scene II



What's the joke?

Hamlet is depressed. Rosencrantz (and Guildenstern) are trying are trying to cheer him up. Their strategy is to affirm that his melancholy is the natural result of his life circumstances being too small for his vast intellect. This is such a crude and superficial attempt at manipulation that Hamlet is prompted to mock them – announcing that his intellect is so tiny, so insignificant that it would fit neatly in a nutshell with enormous spaciousness left over.

Hilarious.


Rosencrantz is the conventional self-serving idiot. He cannot understand the depth of the philosopher's considerations. And by 'philosopher' we always also mean Shakespeare himself -- whomever he might really turn out to have been. Rosencrantz imagines that Hamlet's trouble must be local, based on simple events, and readily corrected by easy flattery. This is the same idea as when the buffoonish seducer allows his lust to persuade him that a young woman's reluctance to embrace him is evidence of her own lack of self-esteem. Of course he resolves to help her overcome this problem!

He thinks he is a “good man” in two senses – he is doing a benevolent deed and he is also trying to accomplish a personal goal. These are not inherently bad motives, but they are quite crude and too often veil selfishness & insensitivity. Rosencrantz is the altruistic friend or family member who tries to “correct” Hamlet's ambiguity and world-weariness. He is the salesman who superficially believes his own logic -- that rephrasing into positive terms is already to have solved the problem. Thus he maintains the problem pertually by his own attempt to easily escape. A very American scheme of “winning friends and influencing customers.”

It is obvious to the philosopher Hamlet that his “helpful” friend is simplistically selfish -- trying to keep his own heart apart from any deep encounter with the ambiguous universe. Insult, deception, idealism, success, failure, contempt, irony, playfulness and and exaggerated metaphor all at once. Comedy.

This is the kind of multi-layered, trans-ironic humour found in sitcoms like “The Office” or “Arrested Development.” It plays off the valid rhythms of speech and follows their logic until it invalidates itself. The momenum of its reasoning is perptually spilling over the edges of the word-containers, overflowing with a surplus of harmless meanings. Pathos mixes with mockery to illuminates the insipid quality of whomever wishes to “succeed” at the expense of intelligently responding to other people and circumstances. We are confrontes by the limits of our social logic through a half-serious juxtaposition one reasoning against another. High intellect and ridiculous motivation are blended together into one delicious stew.

But if it's so damned funny & cutting edge -- why aren't people falling in the aisles at Shakespeare's plays?

Or do they just not laugh at the 'tragedies'?

That is unlikely. We must doubt that an author so instinctively comfortable with the rhythms of parody and comedic dance would be able to thoroughly keep jokes out of his long "dramatic" plays. And does Hamlet's interaction with Rosencrantz not show that the gags have crept in? Perhaps the distinction between farce and drama has always been mostly in the incomprehending emotional response of audiences.

So why don't people laugh more at Shakespeare?


There two likely answers:

1. People simply do not put the necessary effort into following the linguistic rollercoaster of the dialogue. Since they are not tracking the logic they miss the unexpected logical revsersals. Without noting the set-up a punchline will go undetected.

2. People have become semi-professional "Shakespeare-advocates" and “theater-goers.” They miss what would have entertained the unruly author because they are otherwise occupied about the business of dressing up & congratulating themselves for appreciating high culture.

Probably both.

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WHY NIETZSCHE WAS NOT INSANE

(why nietzsche was not insane)

We get a nice feeling when life reflects philosophy. We can take a strange pleasure in hearing that the author of many works concerning tragedy and madness has gone insane – tragically. It satisfies us to know that author of the sentence “God is dead” was struck down by a mysterious malady. Poetic justice doubles as divine retribution.


The damned malcontent & philosopher Frederick Nietzsche proclaimed that life was pointless and all our values are arbitrarily invented. It was simply the Universe's good etiquette to put this bizarre man into a semi-comatose state which no sensible meaning could penetrate.


Yet – if we should discover, by some accident, or by careful reading and re-reading of his actual commentary, that his philosophy was sublimely optimistic, rationally spiritual, sensitive, community-oriented, even – faithful? What then? Surely we might be tempted to find a different story concerning the fate of this beautiful and lonely man, a fate updated by our understanding, a fate more appropriate...


There can be an alternative to the widely gossiped hypothesis that Nietzsche went tragically insane from sexual disease – or from “too much thinking!”


Here is another life & death of Nietzsche:


Consider that his peculiar intellectual work and his well-documented daily health practices are equivalent to what Hindus would call the life of a yoga-saint. It is know that each day he set himself to contemplation of beauty, to the minimal and organic regulation of diet, to various disciplines of self-overcoming, and endless toward deep meditation upon the singular energy which gives rise to all the appearances in the universe – the Will to Power. It is recorded often in Nietzsche's writings that he was in pursuit of a “creative surplus of power... the Great Health.”


A good Oriental education would presume that such a life moves radically toward a point of benevolent psychological mutation. This shift is expected to involve an increase of good humour, an intensification of compassion, and the identification of oneself with the infinite & transcendent power of creation. These are precisely the qualities that were reported by those who observed Nietsche's early “descent” into madness.


His letters became more joyful, more mythical and full of benevolent hilarity. He cannot resist describing his sense that he is God or Dionysus or whatever universal power those words could positively signify. And as for compassion? Nietzsche was initially arrested after trying to protect a horse that was being brutally beaten in the town square. German authorities incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital – “for his own good.”


Reports from his visiting friends describe him as being in excellent spirits, even unusually overflowing with wit and empathy. His closest philosophical companion, Peter Gast, recollects, “[...] He does not seem to be mad. If anything, it strikes me merely an intensification of the humorous part of his nature. Also his piano playing has improved immensely.” These sympathizers rejected the hasty diagnosis of syphillis – an explanation also later dismissed by the analysis of the Journal of Medical History. Unfortunately, Nietzsche's sister Elizabeth can not be counted among his sympathizers.


Herr Nietzsche had a deep fondness for his sister and always treated her very cordially. She, however, had not been able to tolerate the more organic and free-spirited aspects of his nature. Her own tastes ran toward domination and cruelty. In his letters, Nietzsche repeated chides for her for slanderous, self-serving gossip that she has been spreading about him and his ideas. When she marries a fanatic racist and would-be cult leader he finally disowns her... and she spends the next few years helping her husband run an Aryan compound in Paraguay. Abuse and mismanagement lead to overthrow and suicide of her husband, Herr Forster.


Now, without any other means of pursuing her domineering ambitions, she hears that her “dear brother” has been institutionalized for erratic behaviour. She sets sail for Europe and personally takes charge of his treatment. His health begins a hasty deterioration.


One possible explanation is that Nietzsche had an hereditary brain disease. He becomes moody, incoherent, infantile and prone to absence-seizure of increasing duration. These symptoms could be produced by a poisonous or radioactive element in his diet or, most troubling of all, by primitive electroshock experiments. These latter were certainly being conducted at the time. We must recall that the management of psychiatric institutions in 19th century Germany would hardly have met contemporary standards of ethical and rational procedures. In fact this particular psychiatric hierarchy would soon be diagnosing the terrible disease of sympathizing with Jews... and proscribing therapeutic “gas chambers.” Even the best of these institutions at that time must be described as dangerous, fanatical, political and highly experimental. A bad situation for Nietzsche with only his psychotic sister to protect him.


Whatever the specifics of his mistreatment it is clear that his initially overflowing vitality was rapidly extinguished, replacing a transformed man with an increasingly vegetative husk. He no longer made trouble for anyone. Instead he was a compliant martyr symbol for Elizabeth to interpret however she wished. She took him him and quite literally began to exploit his semi-conscious body as a tourist attraction – trotting him out for paying visitors and selling post-cards of his mindless, slumping body. She explained his philosophy as one of racial supremacy for the Aryans and revised his writings accordingly. Years later she would personally assure Adolf Hitler that he was fully supported by Nietzsche's works. This is the kind of woman who had both opportunity and motive to ensure her brother's total compliance.


This tale is still tragic in the extreme – but it shifts the onus of blame from Nietzsche's own body and mind to that of his sister and his untimely social circumstances. Of course we are not seeking to divorce him from responsibility for his life but instead to establish a new reconciliation between Nietzsche's personal history and that profound spirit of health and illumination that dazzles any sensitive reader of his work.


Revisionism?
Yes -- but not entirely unwarranted.


This gentle hermit of the Alps has been denounced as a racist, sexist, war-mongering nihilist, latent homosexual, compulsive masturbator, possible Antichrist, unlovable weirdo & an emotionally inadequate loner who probably went insane from Siphyllis because prostitutes were the only women who would have sex him!


What a malign and oddly “redneck” set of accusations – gossip that puzzles us all the more when we learn that this fellow was a tireless anti-nihilist, outspoke enemy of anti-semites, advocate of a post-nationalist Europe, lover of community, and a deeply spiritual philosopher whose most widely quoted negative remarks about women are usually pieces of dialogue from characters in his novel Thus Spake Zarathustra.

So perhaps revisionism is sorely needed.


Our alternative history is not proven, but neither is the conventional rumour. We must admit that there is, at least, a reasonable doubt...

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