The Demonic Newsreel #1

An exercise in nonsequitur in which dire circumstances are treated with the utmost flippancy.  


Let's face it. Trump is the best of Bruce Wayne and the worst of Alfred, only Batman doesn't figure in anywhere. How does one reconcile the two? Through a sort of internalized maieutic dialogue in which the man with the power debates with the man who would normally give advice to the superhero about what to do. The conclusion is what a non-Bat man would do behind the scenes. Scare the villains so that he doesn't have to put on a suit and go out.

He said we wouldn't go after Assad, but Isis. So, naturally, he bombed Assad. Same old political games.

Fortunate for him, the more radical sector of his base sort of shrugged and endorsed the action, on the grounds that it was strategic and non-democratic, as if it was a chess move meant to put us one step closer to a monarchy who won't bother us about voting all the time in some bright future. The change of heart by which some of his base regrouped after a few days is akin to a group of gamers coming to a consensus about how to defeat a dragon they previously thought they could just go around. They view violence the way they would any clever market ploy or adventurous business move; a new chapter to add to a corporate-ladder-climbing self help manual. It's yet more perennial proof that out of the two politicians who are likely to commit the same deed, the one in whom the people can most see themselves wins the most earnest favor. Clinton fans would have denied she bombed Assad. Trump fans say it's for a good reason (even if the reason he gave is a lie). The difference is only a matter of taste.


When asked if he thought there were any good modern examples of socialism by an interviewer, Gianni Vattimo replied 'Venezuela.' Naturally, the interviewer thought it was a joke. But then, Vattimo's admittance that he returned to Catholicism after reading Nietzsche and becoming a Christian nihilist sounds like a joke too, but a quite serious joke, in which one commits oneself whole heartedly to irony without recourse. All his books are essentially the same book, with the same passages from the same thinkers quoted many times over. He shrugs and flips resentimment on its head to indicate brotherly love, just as he flips Venezuela upside down like a snow globe; its ideal now on top. 


A concentration of local sovereignty would surely culminate in a collaborative effort to cancel mutually assured destruction by sacrificing all of our nuclear weapons in a ritual act--Perhaps by sending them all toward a particular star which holds great symbolic significance... But then there's no guarantee this won't start an interstellar war our great great great grandchildren will have to deal with. 


Sadly, Sterne never quite had a 20th century successor. Swift arguably had a few. Sterne's successors were glorified predecessors, anachronisms, or fan boys who emulated him rather than carried him forward. English Literature in the 20th Century, was Irish Literature. Irish Literature was French Literature. French Literature would be emulated by all of them. America hasn't quite gotten over French literature, though the French got over French Literature before it even began.

     The New New New criticism of the 21st century has been comprised of journalists who pick and throw away writers, poets and novelists of old based on their politics, regardless of whether or not their politics were in their work. Similar to Satanic Panic. Bop the politically incorrect view on the head like a weasel and throw all those nasty, mean books in the fire.