Serviceable sentences, 48/10,000

Love was mortally wounded when the video camera was first pointed at a hard dick.
—NishikiPrestige, “Trads for Feminism. Trad Feminism. TRADBRO FEMINAZISM” (27 August 2017)

(In Mary Poppins [1964], Mary—on her verse towards the end of “Jolly Holiday”—thanks Bert for not being rapey. The wound is deep, & the Minivan Annihilationist has a way with words. It’s like Andrea Dworkin drunk driving past every “Porn Kills Love” billboard in the Bay Area while texting. Much more effective than the peppy platitudes of LDS anti-porn material my fellow Mormons bombard me with. Compare:

Mormon anti-porn PSA: “‘Pornography’ means bad pictures of people with little or no clothes on. […] Just because you saw pornography, and just because it made you curious or interested, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

NishikiPrestige: “You fucking piece of shit. You like porn? WOW. So does half of the human race. ‘human’ being a kind word for the crawling lusting filth that is YOU. FUCK[. //] An army of men are jerking off to the worst pain we could possibly come up with. Ruined women fuck on film for you. GREAT. You aren’t into that, are you ? Wow. What happened?”

If you’re not already reading NishikiPrestige, start. Start with the post quoted above. Then read this. Then mourn your misfortune that “Doomed Mutants At the Precipice” [formerly “Genetic Load and the Death of the West”] is no longer available.)


Serviceable sentences, 47/10,000

Sundays, not for church, were for Shakespeare.
—Adam Plunkett, “Keats and King Lear,” Poetry (11 February 2015)

(Even more interesting, Shakespeare’s work served as a medium for Keats’s [proposed*] experiments with telepathic communion:

Keats imagined an afterlife with “direct communication of spirit” like that which he felt as he wrote to George and felt he could begin to approach by their reading “a passage of Shakespeare every Sunday at ten o’clock” on either side of the Atlantic. “And we shall be as near each other as blind bodies can be in the same room.”

*I do not know if he & George followed through on this.)


Serviceable sentences, 45/10,000

He [H.G. Wells] became, even more than Verne, a Schoolteacher Absolute, a fate that would befall so many later SF writers—Heinlein, Asimov, Bradbury, Le Guin, Delany—that it must be considered an occupational hazard.
—Thomas M. Disch, The Dreams Our Stuff Is Made Of: How Science Fiction Conquered the World (1998)

(The tightropes of prose prophecy & phantasmagoric vision are hard ones for novelists to walk. At least there’s a net, even if it is pedantry.)


Serviceable sentences, 43/10,000

The primary outcome of popular pressure is not so much to shift policy as to shift public presentation of policy.
—Nulle Terre Sans Seigneur, “Rough edges of the New Deal revolution,” Carlsbad 1819 (19 August 2017)

(If you made it through the Bush & Obama presidencies, the Occupy movement, the Arab Spring, et. al., without some variant of this insight rooting itself in your parahippocampal gyrus, please commit the above to memory. Policy is an increasingly hyperreal object that “condemn[s]” the voice of democratic subjects “to futility, to obsolescence, and … to obscenity.”)


On hyper-racism & speciation, pt. 2

On hyper-racism & speciation, pt. 2

Do not, gentle reader, think that I’ve forgotten about my earlier unsavory post on this subject, or my equally unsavory commitment to a post on “hyper-racism” in The Book of Mormon.

I haven’t forgotten. I’m actively avoiding it, so I don’t have to write sentences like these:

“[ineffectual prepositional clause of moral handwringing], there is a wealth of textual evidence, especially for Mormons, suggesting that otherness, racial paranoia, discrimination up to the point of genocide, and neo-speciation—that is, exit pursued at the genetic level, either through isolation & time, gene-editing, or divine intervention—these are capital-D Divine tools used to achieve the ends of providential Xtianity. God smirks (yes, He smirks) when he reads (yes, He reads) a passage like the following, from Parkman’s The Oregon Trail (1849),

For the most part, a civilized white man can discover but very few points of sympathy between his own nature and that of an Indian. With every disposition to do justice to their good qualities, he must be conscious that an impassible gulf lies between him and his red brethren of the prairie. Nay, so alien to himself do they appear, that having breathed for a few months or a few weeks the air of this region, he begins to look upon them as a troublesome and dangerous species of wild beast, and if expedient, he could shoot them with as little compunction as they themselves would experience after performing the same office upon him.

“because his plan of cursing Native Americans with a sore cursing, so that ‘they shall be a scourge unto thy seed, to stir them up in the ways of remembrance,’ is working out just fine.” I don’t want to write stuff like that.

But I should at least, in light of recent news that the first human embryos have been edited in the U.S., draw your attention to poet Ronald Johnson, and his farsightedness when he said that “the old God may have had his home in church, but the new one lives at M.I.T.

He’s right. Except that he’s wrong—the location has changed, but it’s the same God up to his old tricks. Any guesses on who’s going to get scourged?

Serviceable sentences, 42/10,000

The Tower and The Winding Stair, despite the vagaries of New Criticism an the scholarship on Yeats done under its egregious influence, will be studied increasingly as what they are, as much monuments of Romanticism in English poetry as are JerusalemThe PreludePrometheus UnboundThe Fall of Hyperion, or later, Look! We Have Come Through!The BridgeNotes Toward a Supreme Fiction.
—Harold Bloom, Yeats (1970)

(Another good English Romanticism reading list from Bloom. [Previous list at Ss-34/10,000.] This one, fellow pedagogues, is a teachable sequence. It’s also particularly helpful if you were, as I was, wondering on which of Lawrence’s three great volumes of poetry—Look! We Have Come Through!; Birds, Beasts and Flowers; & Last Poems—to focus your limited time.)


Serviceable sentences, 41/10,000

Can it be that there is an intrinsic, causal connection between long poems and wide open spaces?
—Thomas M. Disch, “Onegin’s Children [Review of David Budbill’s Judevine, Mark Jarman’s Iris, Charlotte Mandel’s The Marriages of Jacob, Les Murray’s The Boys Who Stole the Funeral, & Frederick Pollack’s The Adventure],” The Castle of Indolence: On Poetry, Poets, and Poetasters (1995)

(Disch answers this, his question, in the affirmative:

The example of Vikram Seth notwithstanding, I think it more than likely. Country living promotes longer thoughts and patient, sustained achievement, such as gardeners undertake. City life is noted for its speed, excitement, and variety, and while these virtues are not antithetical to a long poem [Ashbery’s Flow Chart is a quintessential long poem in the urban manner], they may well make it harder for the urban poet to pursue the sober, steadfast pace that a long narrative poem requires. This difference is likely to be exacerbated by the different reading habits associated with the city, with its flow of new magazines, new faces, new lingos, and the country, where one may, at last, settle down with the Aeneid in all its rival translations. As we read, so may be aspire to write. Indeed, for someone harboring the ambition of writing a long poem, I can think of no more practical starting point than to change one’s address to somewhere in RFD. [emphasis mine])


Serviceable sentences, 40/10,000

Agency and intelligence are the same thing.
—@rec0nciler, [888234752741920768], (20 July 2017)

[h/t @Outsideness. That tweet disappeared as I was making this post. Most Mormons, given our religion’s emphasis on agency & intelligence, would recognize this identity as expressing a very deep insight. A Mormon better drilled in our orthodoxy than I would be able to refine the overlap between the two through scriptural exegesis, probably citing these two verses somewhere along the way, but I am not that Mormon. I’ll just point—👇—to this sentence’s alphanumeric sum.]