Brief Post, Entirely Cryptic To All But One Person

      Yes, I get it, and yes I knew you were joking. Sad, isn't it, the reality?

      Was reading an essay on Hamlet tonight by an utterly worthless critic, entirely absent to his own onanism. Said critic couldn't go more than five words without drinking once more from the fountain of jargonism, and said critic didn't have a substantial point in his wee-little head. Yes, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but with a simper.

      Side note: reading said paper tonight, I was teasing myself with the idea of writing an article against the self-absorbed, pretentious, useless theories that have come to dominate the academy in recent years like a rapist with a key to the city. Must mull it over a wee more. Maybe it's time I stopped simply rolling my eyes and letting the academy continue in its doldrous state of masturbation. I'm sure it'll also be my death-knell, but, at this point, two questions haunt me: (1) what do I have left to lose?; and (2) will matters ever change if the cynical among us excuse ourselves from the ridiculous debates that now pass for intelligent discussion? There's another, too, on the side of silence: why bother, or, rather, why should I waste my effort? Yes, scrapper as I am, this hegemony of jargonism seems more than a tad monolithic. As much as my inner-Jimmy Stewart reminds me that lost causes are the only ones worth fighting for, the more I realize too this is pissing into the rain, because it's more blowback than engagement.

      Why don't you come on back to the war? is lingering in my head right now. Don't be a tourist....

      My only hesitancy thereto is this: I've been swimming, salmon-like, for so long against the stream. I'm frankly tired. One (in a metaphor I've used countless times) starts to wonder where that line is between Quixotic challenge and simply beating one's head against a Chinese Wall of idiocy. And I have to add, however guardedly, that my recent experience has done little to encourage me to mount Rocinante. One, however, never knows what happens to summon the war-horse from his cynicism. Maybe.