17 July 2009
the vice of finitude
In which Simon Critchley is interviewed by that front for American Apparel products that is Vice Magazine. In true so-ironic-we're-actually-just-unpleasant-in-an-historically-outmoded-way-but-isn't-it-funny-style, they manage to get some genitals in there (and in fact, the interviewer somewhat predictably whines about how irony is, like, the only way of dealing with the world? - ah, diddums):
You learn a little bit, and then you fall asleep and dream about Socrates chugging hemlock in Plato’s cave while Sartre makes shadow figures on the wall using his hands and Foucault’s dick.
Jesus, it's so torturous! Do Vice writers have a check-list? Every article must contain 1. at least two references to cock 2. three knowing nods to porn, 3. an undercurrent of oh-so-naughty-misogyny 4. a sneer at anyone fatter, poorer or with a less extensive record collection than yourself and 5. a casual plug to our sponsors dressed up as in-group hipster-exclusivity. I wonder, though, how Vice are still able to get enough advertisers - I thought all the trust-funds got pulled and surely everyone has enough big glasses and skinny jeans by now...
Still, Critchley seems oddly suited to the thing. Perhaps he should model some faux-70s porn leotards whilst looking vacant - the picture that accompanies the interview is half-way there already! Ah Simon, we love you really...
