This blog isn’t about anything in particular. In fact, it’s resolutely purposeless – doggedly so – in order to reflect and inflect the hyperactive aimlessness of its author(s). A thought experiment for clarity: take a domesticated sloth, load it up with amphetamines (any serious stimulant will do), and plop it down in an advanced-undergraduate seminar on critical theory and social science methodology at NYU (or Columbia, depending on Cuddles’ geographic preference and verbal score on the SAT I.)
The fundamental guiding philosophy of this blog is that it – whatever it is, in its own deranged, socialized, and morally-bankrupt context – is all a farce. This is what happens when adolescent intellectualism (read: high-school ‘achievement’) collapses under the weight of collegiate disillusionment, but vague (and unjustified) feelings of superiority remain. Faith in the intrinsically absurd and contradictory nature of life achieves an intensity close to that of the First through Fourth Crusades (but overwhelmingly more genuine than those poseurs of the Fifth through Ninth and Northern Crusades.)
To this end, I’ll conclude this prologue with GK Chesterton’s response to The Times of London regarding the then-salient (since-discredited) question facing turn of the century Britain: ‘What’s Wrong with the World?’:
Dear Sirs,
I am.
Sincerely yours,
G.K. Chesterton
