yesterday, TMYLM spent lots of time being outraged, shocked, and variously consumed by dreams of cannibalism.  as letters to aig provoke strong reactions across the aisle, we got to thinking about the holiday of passover thats a-coming up for us jews.  if we can argue that pesach represented a perfect embodied example of proletarian revolution: the leaving in the dust, literally, of the accumulated capital of the egyptian empire and rising up in a strike to cross the river where labor was not converted to surplus value (hence the unleavened bread), we may offer in rejoinder: where’s our embodied revolt?  the perfect thing about pesach was its insistence on the non-ethnic divide of the egyptians and hebrews (remember that moses was, early 90s multiculti speaking, an egpytian although by blood a hebrew!) but rather class divide - class that could only be experienced through slave labor.  in every other biblical story, it’s an ethnic problem that causes bloodlust and suffering. in todays america the raped, however, the sitch is quite different, but bodies and slaves are no minor players in the creation and growth of the credit market.  We must reconsume the credit markets, for their speculation consumes us all.

Upstairs: Patti Smith singing “You Light Up My Life” on the perfectly named show, “Kids are People Too.”   Love the riff on punk not being a commodity. Hee.

Plunking along the BQE, one cherishes Sir John Bejtman’s* flamboyant call for the destruction of publicly funded shitholes rather than a cheesy epic sonata celebrating their existence. The English have some sort of knack for grand explosions, which probably includes some lame excuse for why their bars still close at 11pm and something about the War of Independence and gunpowder, though I’m in no mood to do any real research about it. That’s why, then, it comes as no surprise that a bomb-worthy megahit comes in the new Kate Nash song about kissing boys and not getting into relationships. Where would-be clusterfucking Americans reach transcendent heights by trampling each other for discounted spatulas, Nash’s bomb eviscerates any kind of real connection by just being a cheesy bitch. And that’s pretty cool.

Kate Nash - Pumpkin Soup
TS Eliot reading Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock

* This link indicates quite nicely why Brits trained at the Oxbridge institutions are the biggest wanks in the world. Read it and see if it makes any fucking sense.