Saturday, March 21, 2009

These days, I cannot make up my mind about who I am.

This morning, for example, facebook told me that I am most like Jacques Derrida of deconstruction fame. Deconstruction is, somewhat infamously, the philosophy that says nothing…

Of course, I am more than happy to be Derrida if, as this obituary claims,
“...much of his appeal was personal: with his shock of silver hair, solemn scowl and broad jaw, he could pass for a veteran Hollywood star.”

(You may find the similarity striking, yes thank you …no fools, not the dead part, nor the silver hair or grimace…just the Hollywood star bit, and no, not the veteran either)

On other interesting unrelated trivia, John Searle, a professor of philosophy at Berkeley quotes my real aspirational self, Michel Foucault here,

"With Derrida, you can hardly misread him, because he's so obscure. Every time you say, "He says so and so," he always says, "You misunderstood me." But if you try to figure out the correct interpretation, then that's not so easy. I once said this to Michel Foucault, who was more hostile to Derrida even than I am, and Foucault said that Derrida practiced the method of obscurantisme terroriste (terrorism of obscurantism). We were speaking French. And I said, "What the hell do you mean by that?" And he said, "He writes so obscurely you can't tell what he's saying, that's the obscurantism part, and then when you criticize him, he can always say, 'You didn't understand me; you're an idiot.' That's the terrorism part."

By the way, have you noticed with all these new facebook quizzes that they are written/ copied/ plagiarized/ blatantly scanned and reproduced by morons who cannot spell and/ or are prone to typos?

For example,

You are having a sleepover, but only one person is aloud. Who do you chose?
(The silent one? Or even better, the one who can spell?)

You have been invited to a disco where people will be n couples.
(And then you will ask me what n-1 is equal to? Oh wait, that was the GRE)

On other fronts, I am also a bartender, Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party (Philosophical Rumination No.1 - Am I the lunch or the boat or the French people?) , Mickey Mouse, a shitzu, Mars, London (the city, not the loo – yes, going to London often means going to the loo on the subcontinent, another linguistic subversion no doubt) and a toaster.

Maybe I’d rather just be Derrida.