So, your son is sitting in his room reading Nietszche, Baudrillard, Jameson and some pretty damn fine radical literature.
“Why don’t you go out and meet some girls? You are in your prime lad”
“I’m just reading Dad.”
“Postmodernism never got anyone laid son!”
“Don’t say that Dad, there’s some really good ideas in here.”
“Good ideas never got anyone laid.”
“Bullshit, gay guys don’t read Nietszche. They are out. Out listening to ridiculous dance music and cruising guys while wearing ill-fitting shirts.”
“That’s a fucking generalisation Dad.”
“Is it fuck? All I’m saying is that reading that shite will have you sitting around a table talking to other losers about the nature of television or why owning one Count Basie album makes you defeat the iPod shuffle crowd. One day, one of our loser friends will bring a loaded revolver to the meeting and shout out some spiel about how there needs to be a blood sacrifice so that people take you guys serious and that you need to unite in the struggle. After a few moments of really excruciating silence, you all to a person will think the same thought. “I HAVE to get laid!” Then you will very carefully work out a way of getting away from your disturbed colleague. I suggest that you order him sternly to pay for the coffee and say something wanky like “meetings adjourned gentlemen and of course lady, pardon my manners.” This will confuse him and give you a short window to go like Buffy and get the fuck out of there.”
“Thanks Dad…I eh never thought…”
“…Stop ya there. Hey pal, don’t worry bout it. Once you’re a little older, you’ll realise how pointless everything is. Here, Happy Christmas. I love you. Here’s your present and maybe neck this Hoffman. It helps with the visuals.
A cure for postmodernism
click on my munki detritus for details
Now here’s something to chew on
Here’s Amon Tobin with a motherfucker. Genius
and here’s Bonobo’s excellent mix of same track. More genius.