On the subject of this blog’s last defilement of a perfectly nice blank screen, The importance of being Elvis, a friend remarked that the title bore a bit of the Elvis odour itself. She claimed that this particular critique of intellectual commentary was in and by itself just another bit of pseudo-intellectual commentary. And of course she is right!
As has already been stated on this page – it’s remarkable how long a webpage really is – bloggery is fit for the more or less cultivated or casual considerations of the works of mice and men over digital drinks and dinner, but not for laborious elaborations on the subtle workings of all things theory. Blogs are the very sanctuaries of commentary, it is where commentary goes when it is no longer wanted in respectable company, which is why blogs are usually just havens for washed up intellectual waste and futile observations of abundant banality.
So why more or less consciously commit the sin you are condemning? Why throw all personal pride and integrity overboard and just plow right through the known courteous seas? Because it feels so good! Bloggery as well as commentary are generally examples of what we might call rhetorical masturbation and rhetorical masturbation, as we have all learnt in our early years, makes you blind. Well, maybe you don’t really loose your eyesight but you do tend to lean back a bit and close your eyes with the sheer pleasure of it.
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21
Mar 09
Anything but a fatal blow (usually) requires a ready defense
As a last installment (promised!) in our whole “commentary on the spectacular horrors of commentary”-debacle (now a trilogy with parts one and two already out) we should take a quick look at the ground values, not of bloggery as such, but of this our own particular verbal version of loose-stooled effluent. And as the greek word in the header (to the right of the backslash, not the hebrew one to the left) cries out in an embarrassingly high brow fashion, there is only one ground value: War!
So, the idea of this fecal accumulation was to have a place through which to channel the pile of bile that rises within us all when encountering that which is too high, too low, too in the middle, as well as that which just generally rubs us the wrong way.
An example: When some semi-celeb on the front page of a wholly disgraceful newspaper states “I am good in bed”, you must be made of sturdier stuff than me to avoid shaking your fists at the world, shouting insults and death threats at all who would even think of finding such a journalistic abomination worthy of print. Another one: The former princess Alexandra (Denmark), once visited a very hot country, somewhere with elephants, I forget… A photo of this young lady in a sweat stained t-shirt appeared on the front page of one of the weekly attacks on the minds of the already challenged with the following title “The Princess’ Hot Flashes”. I mean, really!
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