No no no, I was talking about Gangesa, the 14th century Sanskrit philosopher of logic, not Shree Ganesha, elephant-headed son of Shiva and Parvati. However, given Ganesha's association with intellect and wit and the erudite howlers Gangesa works into his Navya-Navya classic Tattvacintamani, I can see why you'd make that mistake.
I'm sorry Mr. Kaufman (if that is your real name) but this is a no-trolling zone. We're gonna have to ask you to leave...
I choose the Elephant randomly. Although if you ask me, I will pretend to know who Ganesha is.
I'm sorry Luke (if that is your real elephant), but I'm the inquisitor here, and I insist that you acknowledge the elephant on the table for what it is: namely, a troll. A porcelain troll, you know, to compliment the decor. It's there. Can't you see it? Why do you deny its existence? What is it with you people who refuse to see! It is right there! On that table! Shree-tapping-dancing-Ganesha...
I must concur with Scott on this: the porcelain is clearly in the nose of the elephant.
While your both here, perhaps you can explain what happened with the Zizek thread at the Valve? Does that happen often? It was like an intellectual train wreck in slow motion...
Also, Scott, I'm grading papers for the first time (PolySci): this is torture.
bad blood. bad faith. bad blog. bad bad.
fair enough. Its why I never read anything with more than 5 comments.
glad you enjoyed the Dylan posts, by the way; thanks. Looking forward to your next.
Luke, until I started teaching literary journalism, all grading was always torture. But do you know what's even more tortuous than just grading?
Grading responsibly. A close second? Grading irresponsibly. It's a complete and total mindfuck: either you spend the requisite amount of time doing a particular test/paper/article justice, or you set the timer like your course directors tell you and then, halfway through the paper realize you're 1) out of time and 2) not going to make your quota and that 3) there are so many more things you could've done for this student were it...in other words, the guilt of facing what the course director considers "responsible grading" vs. what you know to be so often overwhelmed. Now I teach literary journalism, and am my own course director (in title alone, but still); so grading's not the hassle it used to be.
As for the Valve, being that I'm a contributer there, I must say that I disagree completely with Matt's assessment of it being a "bad blog." It's no worse than Long Sunday, only ideologically different. For some reason I seem to be the only one who genuinely likes people who contribute to both...except for that Richard Pope, about whom my feelings are well-document (in this very post, no less). I can't see why everyone can't get along, outside of the fact that everyone seems to argue in bad faith. I don't know why they do this, but they do.
On the other hand (and this comment's getting damn long, as have a lot of mine lately), there's also the eternal divide between the scholar and the critic, with the Valve people falling on the scholarly side and Long Sunday on the critical...but that's not really accurate, what with Holbo being an analytic philosopher by training; and we all appreciate the same music; seem to like the same books (non-theory division); watch the same movies. We'd be drinking buddies in an off-line life...and yet look at us.
"Dans tout je parle, il y a jalousie." I suspect part of the 'talking past' is a problem of what different people take as meaningful -- that is, what is at stake in a particular comment thread.
Long comments make my blog look important, so keep 'em coming.
Ah. Scott I see wastes no time in twisting my words. When I said "bad blog" I was speaking in the sort of stern voice one uses when addressing a dog who has just inhaled one's fillet mignon, after you have spent a lifetime researching and cooking it to perfection. In fact I have actually seen this happen once, in a kitchen of a fancy restuarant in which I labored, late at night, and let me tell you the cold hard truth of the matter is: They do no appreciate an $18 piece of meat. Not on the way down, at least. For a good hour afterwards, however, this particular dog did indeed seem quite content with himself. But it was the kind of contentment that comes half from shit-eating grin and half from dread, at perhaps anticipating the largest, most difficult and yet most satisfying shit of your entire life. After which, of course, walking around and interacting with people became once again the joy it always was.
You'll notice, Scott, that then by implication all blogs (and let's include blog comments) are in some sense being scolded for being "bad," including my own.
I must conclude that your failure to detect this tone of voice immediately is yet again more evidence of your utter theoretical incoherence. By "theory," needless to say, I mean everything that is derived neither from philosophical Europe nor those misguided Americans who write about Europeans, nor from anything in literary or cultural theory after 1960.*
That said, The Valve is a very bad Value erm, Valve, creaky and trill and smug and probably to be avoided like the great plague of 1776. Long Sunday, meanwhile, is "ideologically" different insofar as it chooses not to make its living by pissing on people, but rather by attempting to extend to them the maximum charity possible, in order to learn what may be learned and only then "move on." Long Sunday is the bucket, dipped into the well. Indeed, one wonders if the Valve were to its druthers, the well wouldn't promptly be drained dry and some corporation given a lucrative contract to rebuild it "a bit closer" to the ivory tower.
Except for Scott, of course. He is the mighty exception that has yet to prove the rule. But he cross-posts everything anyway, as does Daniel Green. Furthermore, if their inqueditor in chief decides to begin blogrolling pas au-delà, then dogs, let it be said, shall n'er again do wrong. I have named my price, and it hath no concern for dignity. Bob Dylan's a hypocrit with that song, after all.
*date may be subject to change, with the prevailing wind
Matt, I did no such thing! With your typical theoretical sophistry you claim that "bad blog" encompasses to all blogs, yet the referent for "blog" in your statement is obviously the Valve, given that it was the only blog referenced in the previous sentence. This is the sort of bad faith argument I've come to expect from you, Mark, er, Matt, er, whichever idiot you are. You people with your theories and your propensity for backing, no, wiggling, NAY! chickening out of every debate with a "You haven't read everything he's written"-here and a "He's not nearly so stupid in the books he isn't a total fuckin' idiot in like the one you 'happened' accidentally to read"-there. Oh, I'm on to your games, Mart, er, Mack, whatever your friggin' name is. You can try to distract me with talk of steaks, but HA! you didn't know I was a vegetarian! Or at least that I was until very recently, when, having beaten [a small case of sniffles], I reevaluated my lifestyle and decided to reincorporate fish and fowl into it. HA! You didn't know that. And I had a point here, but you and your stupid stupidity ruined it. On another note entirely, you should read this:
http://www.thevalve.org/go/valve...f_some_sort_of/
That's my first-of-a-two-part-series of responses to Mark's question about my take on Foucault. As I mention, I think it'd be hilarious to post it on the Valve and Long Sunday. Because I'm one of you guys, now. Just ask CR:
http://cultrev.typepad.com/cr/20...omment-
10050550
He claims to not have seen Mallrats, but I like him anyway.
[This comment brought to you by the letters E, X, H, A, U, S, T, I, S, S, T, I, O, N.]
Well done, Scott, and I do mean all the Scotts.
I might also note that when you state, "This comment brought to you by the letters E,X,H,A,U,S,T,I,S,S,T,I,O,N you speled exhausticism wrong (or is it wong? I always did have trouble with that one). Anyway, insofar as I read one article precisely because I was attracted to its badness after hearing from people who know that it was bad, in order that I might later claim it to be "symptomatic" of an entire taste culture (something about which I know somethings or three, I'll have you know), and yet you only read ten books (and ten other books by each of the thinkers whose arguments the thinker in question is undoubtedly thinking *with*) and yet I AM AN INTERNETS CELEBRITY and ACADEMIC PULLER OF WEIGHT so I could really just, you know, care less.
Carry on! Oh when I was seven, I skinned my knee. Take that!
Which is all just to say, quite simply, that if you email me your post I'll be happy to "cross-post" it, as they say, and we'll see whose rightness is the greatest rightness of which no greater rightness can be thunk. (Do bear in mind, however, the many expressions that the gesture of complete and utter silence may or may not! contain, but that only we apostles shall ever know.) Enuph!
Totally unrelated (don't worry, I'll resume the festivities come morn, if only to make The Decline
Alright, The Decline officially sucks. I wrote like, um, 59,389 words after that, and how many show up? Do you expect me to repeat it all? Anyway, all I said (in condensed form) was 1) Luke, I'll respond to your comments on my blog a.s.a.p., i.e. whenever I'm finished with Foucault, and Matt, well, you know you got yours comin' to you. So, um, expect it!
It's hopeless Kaufman, they're on my side.
And, we are an Empire.
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