Le Retour

The act of relaying (one’s) reality is bound to offend: such is the violence of perspective. That is, to tell a tale one must first divide and conquer; separate your subject from its claims and then proceed to ceaselessly ridicule them. Does the gift of sight imply a certain disregard for others? So it would all-too-often seem. Woe to the blind man who cannot mock his peer or, rather, to the visually challenged whose offending arsenal is a bludgeon short; his (occasional?) source of misanthropy reduced to sound and thought alone. But which of the senses is more powerful, paves our pampered way for a more telling critique? One is certainly less likely to countenance an Olivia who smells of boiled cabbage, whilst trolls the world over flock to Axe their armpits with specious, if only occasional, success (does beauty always lie in the eye of the beholder?). Biology, however, is merely a placemat for culture, for the point is not merely to survive but to live, as a financially maturing, though thoroughly pleasant, acquaintance recently reminded me. Or so it would seem. As the argument goes, once we’ve permanently rid ourselves of the stank, we can and should turn to more important matters – and looks do count, whether as a measurement of apathy or a conspicuous lack thereof. Alas, but culture is so much more than meets the eye!

Bref, there's been an all-too lengthy absence to our little discussions this past year - a situation I now hope to reverse. Over the coming months, stay tuned for Americanish observations of various form and content and, pray, do not become offended with the results thereof.