Author & poet in a language that no one speaks, in the dark night of Sweden.
a bad workgirl always blames her tools
The problem is that the pessimist never sounds pessimistic enough. The glass isn’t just half empty. There are splinters in the beer, which is probably too warm anyway. And what about the music? Huh!
Truth is a spice that few can stomach.
Nah, I think I’ll go then. I just… I don’t seem to be able… to depart. This is hard to swallow. But then again, such is life! And of course, and as main course, Chomsky can be quite chewy. Wait, have I been served?! Check, please!
When it’s ignorant not to be ignorant, then knowledge is bliss, ey?
A true politician: Fighting for the rights of the people, even more so for his own rights, and least of all for the responsibility, humility, and the love of actually doing something. Vanity demands. Humility gives. Calvin is forgiven though. An even truer politician wouldn’t get past the second box; he has the right to never admit defeat. Vanity, thy name is (wo)man!
Yes, Things Fall Apart and Paradise Lost. YouTube is an ocean full of “readymade souls in plastic bags” (Nabokov), screaming each others ears off to get attention. The digimodernist culture is a heap of haphazardness and children’s entertainment for ignorant adults, that would rather laugh at poo-sounds than listen to a Hamlet-soliloquy. But to castrate the language of George Carlin (famous for “Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television”), Hunter S. Thompson (Fear and Loathing) and Anthony Burgess (A Clockwork Orange) … Wouldn’t that be the want of a cleanliness that a strip like Calvin and Hobbes is challenging every day in their wholesome way?
I don’t see how an expanded vocabulary per se can reveal one’s ignorance. Old-people-cliches like “you should not curse”, however, would kill shows like South Park and condemn, perhaps, the greatest curser of them all: the Bard. Even malediction can be an art form with silver tongue, thou fawning earth-vexing foot-licker! ;)
There’s a seriousness beneath the comic surface.
If there ever was a grading in actual creativity, intelligence, morality and autonomy, then Calvin would get an A+ and the good kids, reading the book, would get an F for failing to do the real task instead of simply doing the given task.
Today, however, people like Kafka still has to wake up one day, finding themselves transformed into a gigantic insect.
A smarta$$ never deals with the issue; he makes a sharp retort and falls in love with his mirror. (This is by the way just a horrible metajoke.)