premature ejaculation

yup, looks llke i was overeager and jumped the gun. im really not back into blogging. had a short run, a few fits and starts, and arrived too early. maybe ill jump back in later, but my comeback was short-lived. sorry if i left you all worked up and unsatisfied...

Adminstrative Assistants provoke bloodbath

I've enjoyed a few humorous gaffs by some students in a crazy class I've been taking this semester. These come from undergrads. Not to pick on them, and not to be too snobbish, but I find myself wondering in response to their comments, "How did you get in here?"

In one discussion, a girl kept referring to the Hegelian and Marxian "dialect". Now, one could assume that she was invoking some notion of jargon or terminology associated with these thinkers. One might speak in a "Marxian vein". But she was referring to a piece of reading we all had in front of us which was discussing, more appropriately, the Hegelian dialectic. But she kept calling it a dialect. So it got me brainstorming some cool title for an essay on "The Dialectics of Dialect" perhaps exploring, using postcolonial and linguistic analysis, the tensions in speech, phraseology and ideology encountered within the liminality of a colonizer/colonized binary and the disruptive modes of mimicry that might result. Or one could cogitate on the "The Dialect of Dialectic" and explore the multiple iterations of the usage of this conceptual tool.

A more humorous example took place in another session. A student was presenting on a topic that touched on "sectarian violence". Yet, she kept saying secretarian. Secretarian violence? Secretarian violence?! A problem to be dealt with, to be sure, but far less pressing. Invokes a riotous notion.

I went looking for some funny images or videos of secretarian violence, but instead came across a hilarous video of a simple office freak out.

Enjoy...

re- re- resentiment

Dammit. As so often is the case in scholarship, someone beat me to it. This book looks fantabulous, is right up my alley, and seems to represent what I've been preparing to articulate. Oh well. No doubt it will serve as a good conversation and perhaps sparring partner. I'll add my own weird twist to the discourse via theology.

I'm ordering this book right now.

Amazon page.

FOB-ulous

For the uninitiated, F.O.B. or fob is an affectionately pejorative term employed by immigrant communities. "Fresh off the boat" captures the naivete, awkwardness and disruptive dislocation embodied in more recent immigrants as they negotiate a new culture. Acculturated first generationers or 2nd and subsequent generationers use this label as they squirm with shame at the odd antics of their discordant brethren. It has a broad spectrum of application, from something as simple as strong accents, to dress, to norms for social interaction.

I take credit for coining the adjective "fobulous"; perhaps someone beat me to it, but I've never heard it employed by others. Using fobulous phraseology is a useful technique in times of social awkwardness, for a smattering of eccentric humor, or to invoke a whole imaginary of cross cultural clashes and the complex dynamics involved.

To express heartfelt affection, one might exclaim, in appropriate south asian accented inflection, "You are being awesome!" The subtle subversive nature of this Bhabhian mimicry is the gerundive addition to the predicative. The object of our affections here, the referent, need not be doing anything at the moment. The being is general. This term replaces the more efficient and less fobulous "You are awesome". Do you catch the slippage here?

There are too many instances and examples to invoke, but I've gotten a kick out of the disruptive interpretation of song lyrics I've encountered over the years. A few examples:

"Do you believe in la fuckin love?" Recognize this? Can you hear Cher crooning?

"It's the final nzazahhh!" A bit more abstract. I wouldn't expect immediate recognition. You'll have to reach back to Europe's glamrock proclamation of its imminent trip to Venus.

I must confess I have been guilty on several occasions of my own fobulous gaffs. One for which I received no small amount of recurrent ribbing involves a Tracy Chapman song:

"Love is hate, war is peace, no is yes, zero degrees".

Don't ask me where I came up with this or why I unreflectively continued to sing along with the song in this fashion. It makes sense to me in a vague apocalyptic way: zero degrees invokes a frozen, dead world, perhaps metaphorically related to ground zero, where the "missiles called peacekeepers" which were "aimed to kill" completed their mission. Who knows?

At any rate, I apparently qualify now as the recipient for hearty, congratulatory, and, again, south asian accent inflected "zero degrees, man!!"

Losing One's Head

Not to be morbid, but as I was walking along the sidewalk today I passed this, well, slightly morbid sight/site. It is indeed a disembodied bird's head. It was just sitting there, mysteriously, in silent protest.

I'm debating on writing either a short story or a poem about it. I'm still mulling that over and will add something more here in a few days. But here's the picture for you to consider.

Resurrection

Guess who's back, back again. Devin's back, tell a friend.

Yes, I think I'll start blogging again.

On the theme of resurrection and in shameless self promotion, here is the abstract from my recently published article in the Scottish Journal of Theology (Aug 2008) entitled "Resurrection as Surplus and Possibility: Moltmann and Ricoeur" :

Though Moltmann and Ricoeur have a history of interaction, little attention has
been paid to this relationship and its implications for their respective programmes.
These thinkers have much in common, however, and the Ricoeurian categories
of surplus and possibility elucidate critical aspects of a theology of hope,
serving to strengthen its contemporary implications. Nuance is provided for the
resurrection’s role in redemption, and an existential mode of hope is delineated.
Focusing on Moltmann’s interactions with Ricoeur concerning the resurrection
elevates these latent themes and demonstrates the fruitfulness of a continued
conversation between these two thinkers. Furthermore, examining Moltmann’s
thought in Ricoeurian perspective opens new directions for conceptualising
resurrection hope and praxis in a postmodern context.


I can't figure out a way to post the pdf of the article, but if you are interested, let me know and I'll send you a copy.

Hope to resume my inane rantings and uncritical critical reflections on the nonsense of life soon.

See you there. Or, here.

Re-Bombings

Absolutely hilarious and brilliant.