The coiner of the phrase now has a case. I'm sure he'll get through it.

The process of becoming more frustrated, more strident, more despairing, more demanding, etc., that I have gone through over the last 11 years is about 25% due to coming into contact with all the typical 20th century French and German influences, and 75% due to the fact that it's not that people don't know the truth; they don't care. And so vanished any aspirations I had towards some sort of brilliant career in academia. Because I wanted to change the world, not my status in it (though, fuck, vacation time!)*. This blog is basically a hastily-written and rarely-edited version of what I think I would have accomplished had I spent a house I don't have on a few degrees, ie fairly little. Even if I were a bit smarter due to reading those same "Frogs 'n' Krauts" with smarter people and a better writer having my papers edited by better writers, well, the result would be the same, still.

;-), aged: visibly, writer of numerous liberal complaint books and obscure essays in obscure academic journals, has died of a heart attack. His writing was ignored by most, except by other writers of liberal complaint books, who often took him to task over slight disagreements towards marketing their own liberal complaint books. Some people agreed with him completely, and did nothing about it. He is survived by his collection of Jameson and Jameson.

But writing takes the bullshit out of my head so that there is enough space for the new bullshit, the flow of which will never abate. In the interest of not exploding, I persist.

*I'm not saying anything about anyone else and their brilliant academic careers. Just saying - how many authors of liberal complaint books can there be, and, were there an insufficient amount, who would think I the best person to pick up the slack?

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