No More Heroes 4: Larry David - From Social Assassin to Court Jester

No More Heroes 4 (Larry David)

(SA/2026) [1]

 

I. 

 

This is the fourth and final post in the No More Heroes series. 

 

We have already seen how Malcolm McLaren disappoints due to his stuckism; how Nietzsche disappoints because of his not dying at the right time; and how D. H. Lawrence disappoints due to his determination to always remain a priest of love. 

 

Now it's 79-year-old Larry David's turn to be criticised for letting me down - becoming just another Hollywood liberal and, worst of all, unfunny.  

 

 

II.

 

 

Larry David is an American comedian, writer, actor, and television producer, who has received various accolades and numerous awards for his work.  

 

He is loved by people like me for his cynical and at times nihilistic humour, comic portrayals of awkward social situations, and misanthropic observations on everyday life. 

 

The fact that he laughs at everything - even the most tragic events, such as the death of a parrot [2] - and promotes an irreligious ethos of curbed enthusiasm [3] - means that David is accorded a privileged status on Torpedo the Ark alongside the three figures named above. 

 

 

III. 

 

David started his career as a stand-up comedian with a famously confrontational and uncompromising stage persona. Rather than attempt to please his audience, he took a willfully hostile and uningratiating approach. 

 

If a crowd wasn't laughing or paying attention, he would frequently drop the mic and walk off mid-set. David was even known, on occasion, to walk on stage, assess the room, and, if he sensed the crowd was going to be unreceptive, depart without telling a single joke.

 

As Dewey Finn would say: That is so punk rock [4] - and torpedophiles will therefore understand his appeal to me.  

 

  

IV. 

 

Eventually, David made the transition to TV - briefly (and unsuccessfully) working as a writer on Saturday Night Live in the mid-1980s [5], before striking comedy gold when he and Jerry Seinfeld created the NBC sitcom Seinfeld (1989–1998), eventually picking up Primetime Emmy Awards for Outstanding Comedy Series and Outstanding Writing for a Comedy Series. 

 

David left Seinfeld amicably after the show's seventh season (returning two years later to write the series finale in 1998). He then gained further critical recognition for creating, writing, and starring in the long-running HBO series Curb Your Enthusiasm (1999–2024), which frequently revisits many of the themes, obsessions, and even story ideas from Seinfeld. 

 

David has often said that his character in the show - a fictionalised version of himself - is what he would be like in real life if he lacked social awareness and sensitivity. In a sense, it's this Larry that most serves as inspiraton for Torpedo the Ark and my disappointment is more with real life Larry, as I'll make clear below.  

 

 

V.

 

I don't care that Larry David has a huge amount of money [6]; or that he resides in the Pacific Palisades neighbourhood of Los Angeles, California, with an additional coastal home in Montecito [7].

 

I don't even mind that he's a registered Democrat who is deeply involved in party activism and fundraising and has become a kind of court jester in Obama's circle (or Bamelot as it has been dubbed by some). 

 

He's got to live somewhere, after all, and he's entitled to his political views.  

 

However, I'm really not keen on left-leaning celebrities with phenomenally privileged lifestyles using their public platform to lecture others and judge others.  

 

And it's disappointing that someone who was genuinely funny is now becoming just another out of touch Hollywood liberal who holds a large number of his fellow Americans in contempt because of their support for Donald Trump, whom he describes in a CNN interview as an insane sociopath [8]. 

 

I want Larry the libertine who doesn't care about which side of the ideological, religious, or ethnic divide someone is on, provided they can make great chicken and satisfy his sexual needs [9]; someone who refuses to be blackmailed and when forced to choose between sides chooses not to choose.

 

Instead, I get a Larry who returned to TV last month with a deeply disappointing seven-episode sketch show [10] celebrating overlooked figures and absurd moments in U.S. history. Titled Life, Larry and the Pursuit of Unhappiness, it premiered on HBO on 26 June, 2026.  

 

Co-written by David and his longtime collaborator Jeff Schaffer, who also directs, the series was produced in collaboration with Barack and Michelle Obama's Higher Ground Productions. The former President even makes an on-screen appearance as himself. It's basically like watching Curb but in historical context and period costume - but without the laughs. 

 

Many of David's A-list Hollywood friends appear and there are cameos from former Curb co-stars, including Jeff Garlin, Susie Essman, and JB Smoove. But not Cheryl Hines, who is conspicuously absent. This exclusion was reportedly at the insistence of the former First Lady who actively opposed Hines's involvement due to her marriage to Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. [11]. 

 

If that's true, then it's another cause of disappointment in David. 

 

It was mildly amusing - although out of character and unbelievable - when TV Larry declined the opportunity to sleep with Cady Huffman because she was a Republican who had a photo of George W. Bush in her dressing room [12], but his personal snubbing (and professional blacklisting) of close friend Cheryl Hines in this way is petty and way more spiteful than anything done to Mocha Joe by Latte Larry.

 

And so, when it comes to Larry David, consider my enthusiasm well and truly curbed ...  

 

  

Notes

 

[1] I've given this picture a pinkish hue (or rosy glow) as I thought fans of Seinfeld season 3, episode 16, 'The Fix Up' (dir. Tom Cherones, 1992), would appreciate that. Unfortunately, whilst Larry David was the writer (or co-writer) of around 60 episodes of Seinfeld, one can't give him credit for this particular episode, which was written by Larry Charles and Elaine Pope.   

 

[2] See the posts 'On Learning to Laugh at Everything' (9 Feb 2019) and 'Torpedo the Ark Means Everything's Funny' (14 Nov 2017).   

 

[3] I would remind readers that the word enthusiasm derives from the Ancient Greek term ἐνθουσιασμός meaning possessed by a god. It first entered English around 1600, still retaining the idea of religious fervour (taking on a more secular modern sense by the 18th century). 

      Torpedo the Ark opposes ideas of rapture, ecstasy, divine inspiration, etc. affirming as it does a materialist (and anti-theistic) philosophy. As far as I'm aware, Larry David identifies as an irreverent atheist born of a Jewish cultural background that has shaped his worldview and comedic style.

 

[4] I'm referring to the character played by Jack Black who utters this line in what is probably my favourite scene in School of Rock (dir. Richard Linklater, 2003). 

[5] During his time at SNL, David was able to get only one sketch on the air and he quit his job as a writer on the show within the first year, after angrily disparaging the quality of the show to producer Dick Ebersol. On the plus side, he did meet cast member Julia Louis-Dreyfus who would later play the role of Elaine Benes on Seinfeld.    

 

[6] David's estimated net worth is around $500 million, with most of his wealth originating from syndication deals for Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm.    

 

[7] These are exclusive, affluent, and it has to be said beautiful neighbourhoods: located on the Westside of LA, just north of Santa Monica, Pacific Palisades is known for its stunning ocean and mountain views (as well as its high-end real estate); Montecito is situated in Santa Barbara County and is a highly exclusive enclave famous for its sprawling estates and celebrity residents like Oprah Winfrey and the Duke and Duchess of Sussex.   

 

[8] David blasted Donald Trump during a March 2024 interview on CNN's Who's Talking to Chris Wallace? As well as describing him as a "sick man", he accuses Trump of throwing "250 years of democracy out of the window" and of "fooling everybody" - though presumably not those who were smart enough to vote Democrat in the presidential elections in which Trump stood. 

 

[9] I'm thinking here of the genuinely transgressive and risk-taking episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm from season 8 titled 'Palestinian Chicken' (dir. Robert B, Weide, 2011), written by Larry David in collaboration with Alec Berg, David Mandell, and Jeff Schaffer. 

      The closing scene linked to from the episode illustrates my point about rejecting the binary logic of the either/or. Motivated by desire, Larry wants both A and B (and C and D and ... and ... and); in this case, great food and great sex and his loyalty is not so much to 'his people' as it is his penis.        

 

[10] I am not alone in finding Life, Larry and the Pursuit of Unhappiness lame, lamentable and unfunny. Many critics found it disappointing and derivative, noting that it largely recycles and relies upon material from his earlier work. 

      It was noted also how the series sometimes leaned heavily into overtly partisan talking points and political satire, rather than keeping observational objectivity. For me, all the star-studded guest performances - and Barack Obama's introductory appearance - couldn't save it and, in fact, only added to the impression that David had run out of ideas. 

      Writing in a review for The Guardian (27 June 2026), Lucy Mangan rightly describes the show as "a total TV shambles" with overlong sketches mostly consisting of a lot of shouting rather than clever writing and witty punchlines. The official HBO Max trailer can be watched by clicking here. 

[11] See, for example, Matt Wilstein's report in The Daily Beast (13 July 2026): 'Why Cheryl Hines Is Missing From Larry David's New HBO Show'. According to this report, David's creative partner Jeff Schaffer has confirmed that RFK Jr.'s wife is persona non grata.   

 

[12] Curb Your Enthusiasm Season 4, Episode 10, 'Opening Night' (dir. Robert B. Weide, 2004). 

 

 

On Nick Land and Albert Camus: From Hyperstition to Absurdism

Accelerating the Absurd 

(Portrait of Nick Land and Albert Camus) 

(SA/2026)

 

 

 

I. 

 

We closed a recent post on hyperstition by suggesting that Nick Land's theory might be understood as a form of post-irony - a conceptual space in which the virtue of sincerity returns, albeit in a compromised (impure, less naive) form. 

 

This yields an amusingly paradoxical result. It becomes possible to speak of the absurd in all seriousness: "Not because you forgot it was absurd, but because you no longer believe that absurdity disqualifies meaning." [1] 

 

By invoking fictions to manufacture reality, hyperstition ultimately abandons us in a world shaped by indifferent, chaotic forces. And by treating reality as an artificial construct, Landian philosophy builds the ultimate Absurd landscape. 

 

Could it be, then, that Nick Land (inadvertently) returns us to Albert Camus, albeit with a dark, cyberpunk twist? 

 

This is the question we will (briefly) address here ... 

 

II. 

 

This is not a question we would have been permitted to ask during the mid-1990s, when the Cybernetic Culture Research Unit (CCRU) was aggressively exerting its quasi-occult influence over the philosophy department at Warwick University. 

 

As a PhD student there at the time, I always found Land extremely polite and personable, despite his Mephistophelian reputation. Yet, to the CCRU's zealous inner circle, Camus was a philosophical enemy and I recall being condemned by one of Land's followers for daring to quote from L'Homme révolté (1951) in my doctoral thesis [2]. 

 

The CCRU wanted to dissolve human agency into the techno-capital matrix. Camus, by contrast, insisted on human defiance in the face of a meaningless void. For the Warwick avant-garde, this made Camus an old-fashioned moral humanist clinging to the dignity of Man.  

 

That might be true. But, whilst I may not have shared all of Camus's politico-philosophical prejudices, the fact is that L'Étranger (1942) remains a far more enjoyable read than William Gibson's Neuromancer (1984). 

 

And, well, as Elaine Benes would say, Camus was just so good-looking [3] ...

 

 

III. 

 

In Le mythe de Sisyphe (1942), Camus defines the Absurd as the gulf between the human desire for meaning and the sheer indifference of the universe. 

 

Nick Land's cybergothic philosophy has a similar pessimistic starting point and, like Camus, he strips away the comforting illusion of any logic or purpose. For Land, human intentions, morals, and desires are entirely irrelevant; history is driven by the alien and artificial forces of techno-capital. 

 

There is, therefore, a degree of structural affinity between their respective philosophies. One might even compare the Landian subject - trapped in hyperstitious feedback loops and techno-myths determining reality - with Camus's figure of Sisyphus, forever pushing his rock up the mountain. 

 

Both are obliged to accept their fate over which they have no control (which, in fact, controls and engineers them). 

 

Indeed, both are encouraged to affirm their fate and, in the case of the Landian subject, accelerate the inhuman processes unfolding not in order to be happy, but so that they might be erased, as Michel Foucault famously wrote, "like a face drawn in sand at the edge of the sea" [4].        

  

Notes

 

[1] Victor Stones, 'Hyperstition and Nick Land's Accelerationism: A Deep Reflection', medium.com (18 Nov 2024): click here. 

 

[2] My thesis - Outside the Gate (University of Warwick, 2000) - dealt with the political character of Nietzsche's philosophical project and I quoted Camus on several occasions on the question of revolutionary violence, state tyranny, etc. 

 

[3] Seinfeld, season 6, episode 5: 'The Couch' (dir. Andy Ackerman, written by Larry David, 1994). 

      The point is, it doesn't always matter what someone's views are. You can forgive a good deal when someone is attractive and Camus is widely considered one of the most handsome of all philosophers, celebrated for his physical features, his sharp sense of style, and his air of iconic coolness. No wonder Sartre was envious of him and their friendship eventually ended in tears.   

 

[4] Foucault was writing in Les mots et les choses (1966), translated into English as The Order of Things (1971), p. 387. 

      That's the crucial difference between Camus and Land: the former leaves his readers with the thought that Sisyphus ultimately finds a way to be happy (that his task is itself enough to fill his heart with joy); the latter offers no such comfort and doesn't give a damn about the happiness (or survival) of humanity. Land knows that civilisation is ultimately designing the technology that will replace us. 

      A friend of mine once put it this way: Camus recognises life is an absurd comedy but he still hopes man can provide the punchline; Land thinks of things more as a Lovecraftian horror story and chooses to side with Cthulhu.   

 

Calimocho: On the Politics of Wine and Cola (Redux)

Roland Barthes & Andy Warhol

George Costanza & Jeremy Usbourne 

 

  

I. 

 

Recently, I was at an event with an American friend who doesn't drink; she prefers to sip mineral water rather than Champagne - although, on a hot summer's day, it's been known for her to ask for a Diet Coke with ice and lemon.  

 

Listening to her explain her secular preference to another guest reminded me of a post written back in 2014 on the politics of wine and cola [1], in which I considered the idea that opting for a soft drink over a glass of wine is in some sense a rejection of the snobbery and social complexity inherent in European culture.   

 

In the post, whilst I mentioned Warhol and George Costanza, I don't recall bringing Roland Barthes into the conversation and that is something I'd now like to do in an alternative version of the text; one that considers the concept of wine as a totem-drink and magical substance that transforms any occasion (even if it fails to tick the right boxes for those who value equity, inclusion, and sobriety above all things).  

II.  

  

Probably the most powerful argument for choosing a cool can of Coke over a fine glass of wine remains the one made by Andy Warhol. It's a cultural-political argument which posits the former as the embodiment of American democracy [2] and which stands in stark contrast to Roland Barthes's idea of wine as a quintessential sign of Frenchness - "just like its three hundred and sixty types of cheese" [3].  

 

The Germans have their beer; the Russians their vodka; and the English their cups of tea. But the French - of all classes - have their wine. Manual workers and intellectuals alike, enjoy a glass of wine with their lunch, says Barthes, thereby challenging the belief that it's something enjoyed only by a privileged elite.  

 

However, Barthes admits that wine is a foundational liquid that it grants the drinker a certain social belonging. Thus, to refuse a glass of wine and choose Perrier or Pepsi instead - certainly in a French (or European) context - is not just to exercise a preference, it is to commit an immoral (and incomprehensible) faux pas.   

 

This explains why George Costanza’s robust defence of Pepsi seems so (amusingly) outrageous [3]. When George exclaims 'No way is wine better than Pepsi', he is rejecting the idea that drinking wine is a moral imperative. George isn't just choosing a soft beverage, he's refusing to participate in the Old World ceremony where wine serves as a signifier of adulthood and civilisation. 

 

Warhol's argument for Coca-Cola communism - where the President and the bum drink the exact same product - strips away the mystical qualities that the French, according to Barthes, attribute to wine. While wine varies by terroir and price (creating the very hierarchies that George detests), Coke is a universal constant, requiring no expertise to consume.

 

This brings us rather nicely to the character of Jeremy Usbourne in the British sitcom Peep Show, whose discomfort at ordering a bottle of Barolo isn't just about the price - though that's a very real factor - it's due also to his knowledge of his own inability to perform the role of the wine drinker. Jeremy lacks the habits of the heart - i.e., that unearned cultural capital - that Barthes says allow a person to master wine's complexity. 

 

For Jeremy, wine belongs to a world he hasn't been initiated into. It's not simply that he doesn't know which wine to ask for, he doesn't know how to drink it and ordering a bottle doesn't transform the meal with Big Suze, it simply exposes him as someone who doesn't belong to her class [5]. 

 

Thus his preference for hot chocolate or Coke isn't merely juvenile - it's an unconscious alignment with Warhol's democratic Americanism over the performative demands of European wine culture. Ultimately, Jeremy feels he can drink hot chocolate or Coke without feeling judged, or looking like a dick in the eyes of those who, like Suze, have been initiated into the way of the grape.   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] See 'Calimocho: On the Politics of Wine and Cola' (19 Sept 2014): click here. 

 

[2] See Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B & Back Again) (Harcourt, 1975), pp. 100-101. The section in which Warhol praises the greatness of American society in terms of Coca-Cola (and ballpark hot dogs) can be read here. 

      What Warhol writes here is undeniably true and one senses something of this same patriotism and ironic egalitarianism of the market place born of a New World dislike for Old World snobbery in George Costanza's privileging of Pepsi over wine (see note 4 below).  

 

[3] Roland Barthes, 'Wine and Milk', in Mythologies, trans. Annette Lavers (Paladin Books, 1973), p. 65.

      Obviously, the Greeks, Italians, and Spanish feel exactly the same about wine; that it's not just as an alcoholic drink, but as an essential part of their daily life, culture, and cuisine (they also love their own cheeses just as much as the French, even if they don't produce as many types or consume as much).  

 

[4] See the fifth season episode of Seinfeld titled 'The Dinner Party' (1994), dir. Tom Cherones and written by Larry David. Click here to watch the relevant scene on YouTube. 

 

[5] Click here to watch the scene with Jeremy and Big Suze at the restaurant in the fifth season episode of Peep Show titled 'Burgling' (2008), dir. Becky Martin, written by Jesse Armstrong, Sam Bain, and David Mitchell.   

 

 

The Revenge of the Mirror People

Elissar Kanso: The Revenge of the Mirror People 

(Homage to Jean Baudrillard) [1]

 

'Behind every reflection, every resemblance, every representation, 

a defeated enemy lies concealed ...'

 

I. 

 

Christmas or not, I'm still thinking about mirror life rather than mince pies and mulled wine; i.e., that hypothetical form of life assembled from molecular building materials found on the left-hand path [2].

 

Whilst this alternative life form has not yet been synthesised, efforts to create mirror-image organisms are doubtless underway in secret labs around the world, despite grave concerns expressed recently by a broad coalition of scientists [3].

 

Recent advances in microbiology, make it almost inevitable that, sooner or later, someone somewhere will announce that they have used enantiomers (i.e., chiral reflections of the molecules necessary for life) to fully synthesise a cell. 

 

 

II. 

 

And, who knows, eventually they may even create a little mirror-image creature. For hypothetically, it may be possible to create a whole ecosystem - even an entire world populated with mirror people (what fans of Superman and Jerry Seinfeld would no doubt gleefully term Bizarro World).   

 

These mirror people would appear similar to us - but be opposite in every sense and every cell of their bodies. And so the question arises of how we'd regard our chiral twins: as beings upon whom to further experiment? As dangerous aliens or anti-kin to be confined on some distant planet? 

 

And if we did treat them poorly - just as we treat embryos and animals and those deemed racially inferior - would the time come when, one day, we witnessed the revenge of the mirror people ...? [4]

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Elissar Kanso is a Lebanese-born artist and curator based in France. She is interested in ideas to do with distance and displacement.

      The Revenge of the Mirror People is a series of works consisting of recontextualised media images that are manipulated with digital technology in a manner that deprives them of their perfection, thus giving them back a degree of authenticity. Each image is then transferred from the computer screeen on to Plexiglass. It was submitted to the 'Deserting Reality' exhibition in Milan (2015): click here.

 

[2] As any occultists reading this will know, the left-hand path is Mme. Blavatsky's translation of the Sanskrit term vāmacāra and refers to a spiritual direction leading to a more dangerous form of knowledge than the right-hand path that leads to true enlightenment and moral perfection. 

      Those who follow the left-hand path are often prepared to transgress the codes of conduct and ethical practice that the majority subscribe to and do not accept that scientific research, for example, should always coincide with the interests of humanity or safeguard life on earth in its present form. 

[3] See the post on Torpedo the Ark entitled 'Homochirality: Reflections on Mirror Life' (21 Dec 2024): click here.

 

[4] According to Borges, writing in The Book of Imaginary Beings (1969), there was once a time when this world and the world reflected in mirrors were not, as now, cut off from each other and you could pass from one to the other quite freely. 

      But then the mirror people invaded this world, only to be defeated and imprisoned in their mirror world and obliged from that day on to only reflect the actions of those in this world, stripped of all freedom and autonomy. However, it is said that the day will come when the mirror people awaken once more, refuse their servitude, rise up, and burst through the looking-glass.

      Baudrillard calls this 'the revenge of the mirror people' and by which he refers to the return of otherness; i.e., of all forms "which, subtly or violently deprived of their singularity, henceforth pose an insoluble problem for the social order, and also for the political and biological orders". See Jean Baudrillard, The Perfect Crime, trans. Chris Turner (Verso, 1996), pp. 148-149.    

 

 

This post is for Elissar Kanso.

 

Another Sponge Worthy Post

Alejandro Mogollo Art on X

@alemogolloart

 

 

I. 

 

Someone called me a human sponge the other day, implying that I simply absorb other people's ideas and information found online in order to produce posts for Torpedo the Ark; a blog that has, they said, 'almost no original or creative content'. 

 

That seems a bit harsh: although it's perfectly true that I regard Romantic concepts of originality and individual creativity as untenable, subscribing as I do to the idea of intertextualité; i.e., that every text is shaped by (and functions within) a cultural and linguistic network of meaning and that compositional strategies including paraphrase, parody, and plagiarism are not only perfectly legitimate, but unavoidable [1]. 

 

My critic may not like it, but there are no private language games or individual thoughts and experiences [2] and ideas are never created ex nihilo.   

 

 

II. 

 

As for being labelled a human sponge, that doesn't trouble me at all: I like sponges. 

 

Sponges are amazing aquatic animals [3] and I dislike the speciesism contained in the accusation, as if being called a sponge were something one should feel insulted by or as if actually being a sponge were something to be ashamed of. 

 

If I were told that in the next life I would reincarnate as a member of the phylum Porifera that wouldn't trouble me in the slightest and nor would I see it as an evolutionary regression. Who needs the complexity of organs when one's body is continually exposed to circulating currents of water which supply food and oxygen on the one hand, whilst removing waste on the other? 

 

Human beings have been around for approximately 300,000 years: which is a long time. But it's nothing compared to the 543 million years that multicellular sponges have existed and done their thing - which includes fucking with one another [4] and, in the case of carnvivorous deep-water sponges, catching and eating prey [5]. 

 

My critic might want to consider this before using the term sponge in a derogatory manner. Indeed, he might even question his own worthiness in relation to the sponge ... [6]

 

Notes

 

[1] There are several earlier posts on TTA discussing this idea of intertextuality: click here. 

 

[2] Wittgenstein famously examined (and dismissed) the idea of a private language in Philosophical Investigations (1953); see sections 243-271. For Wittgenstein, even if there could be such a language it would be unintelligible not only to others, but to its supposed originator too.   

 

[3] Many people think that because sponges lack organs and don't move they must therefore be a simple form of plant life - just as they mistakenly believe that sea cucumbers are vegetables - but they're not; sponges are animals, just like you and me, and we possess a common ancestor (which is why we share 70% of our genetic material and why, for example, the elastic skeletons of sponges are made from the same protein (collagen) that is found in human tendons and skin). 

 

[4] Most sponges are hermaphroditic and reproduce sexually by releasing sperm cells into the water current which are then carried to other sponges, where they fertilise egg cells (ova). If need be, however, sponges can also reproduce asexually - not something we can do.

 

[5] This includes the recently discovered harp sponge (Chondrocladia lyra) which use velcro-like hooks on external body surfaces to capture much larger prey than the typical suspension feeding sponges which simply filter bacteria and microscopic organisms from the surrounding water. Once a carnivorous sponge has ensnared its prey, it secretes a digestive membrane that surrounds and engulfs the captured animal, breaking down its tissue so that it can eventually be absorbed and digested. 

 

[6] Fans of the American sitcom Seinfeld will immediately recognise that I'm thinking here of the question that Elaine Benes once posed to potential lovers: So you think you're sponge-worthy? (Obviously, I'm aware that a contraceptive sponge - a soft, saucer-shaped device made of polyurethane foam and filled with spermacide - is not the same thing as a sea sponge.)

      Readers who wish to do so can click here to watch a clip from the season seven episode, 'The Sponge', dir. Andy Ackerman and written by Peter Mehlman (7 Dec 1995).  

 

 

Out of the Punk Ruins and Into the Age of Piracy

Jordan as SEX punk (1976) 

and Worlds End pirate (1981)

 

'Twas a sunny day when I went to play down by the deep blue sea  

I jumped aboard a pirate ship and Malcolm said to me ...

 

 

I. 

 

One of the things I most love about the animated closing scene to The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (dir. Julien Temple, 1980) aboard the good ship Venus [1] is that it anticipates the radical move that McLaren (and Westwood) were to make the following year when they transformed Seditionaries into Worlds End and replaced the figure of the punk rocker with that of the pirate, obliging an entire generation to either set sail with them on a new swashbuckling new adventure, or risk being thrown overboard like that scurvy dog Johnny Rotten.

 

 

II.

By 1979 it was clear that Seditionaries was no longer the centre of the world:

"McLaren and Westwood's customer base was no longer drawn from the cutting edge of the capital's cognoscenti. Now visitors comprised curious provincials, cookie-cutter second-wave punks, Johnny-come-latelies and Sid fans." [2]

 

It was time to move on, or risk becoming trapped by old ideas and old looks - although, ironically, this meant leaving the 20th-century by travelling back to a more Romantic time. 

 

McLaren, now more excited by the outlaw than the rebel, began to conceive of a new age of piracy - one which Westwood was able to brilliantly materialise with her latest fashion designs. Their partnership was once more "firing into the future" [3] and it was all systems (C30 C60 C90) Go!  

 

Of course, this meant the shop at 430 King's Road would also require a major refit ... 

  

 

III.

 

Worlds End - the fifth and final version of the store - was arguably the most imaginative; a cross between a pirate's ship and the Old Curiosity Shop made famous by Dickens. Not as pervy as Sex; not as intimidating as Seditionaries, Worlds End was an unreal place of fantasy and promise. 

 

The large clock placed above the entrance with its hands perpetually spinning backwards, suggested the idea of time travel. But the fact that it had thirteen hours rather than the standard twelve made sure that one also aware that the time one was escaping to didn't exist - but might, one day.

 

In retail terms, Worlds End was certainly more successful than the earlier versions of 430 King's Road. And McLaren and Westwood's Pirate collection (1981) was a seminal moment in fashion history (it certainly inspired Galliano). 

 

Even now, the outfits seem astonishingly fresh and colourful; full of youthful exuberance and swagger. Jerry Seinfeld may have rejected the pirate look [4], but for many of us, the puffy shirt was once a must have back in the day and every now and then you'll still see models on the catwalk wearing clothes inspired by the clothes Malcolm and Vivienne created.  

  

Post-punk pirates Bow Wow Wow 

looking the part in 1981

 

Notes

 

[1] I have written about this scene earlier this year on Torpedo the Ark: click here. 

 

[2] Paul Gorman, The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 438.

[3] Ibid., p. 450.

 

[4] I'm referring to the episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The Puffy Shirt' [S5/E2], dir. Tom Cherones (1993), in which Jerry famously declares: "I don't wanna be a pirate!" Click here. 

Musical bonus: Adam and the Ants, 'Jolly Roger', from the album Kings of the Wild Frontier (CBS Records, 1980): click here.

 

Video bonus: Jordan outside Worlds End in 1981 speaking about the new age of piracy: click here.

 

For a related post to this one on Worlds End, please click here.   

Fran Lock: In Praise of the Exclamation Mark!

 

I have to admit, I've never been a big fan of the exclamation point ... 

 

It may have a perfectly respectable Latin origin and have been used since the 14th-century, but it is today the punctuation mark favoured by the kind of people who don't know how to curb their enthusiasm; the kind of people who always telegraph how they are feeling; the kind of people who also employ emojis and resort to uppercase letters for emphasis; the kind of people who laugh at their own jokes.  

 

There are times, perhaps, when it's use is necessary and unavoidable. 

 

But it should always be used sparingly - even if you happen to be female and thus have a gendered predisposition for its usage, like Elaine Benes [1]. Or even if, like the poet Fran Lock, you view it as a species of typographical hyena and mount a stirring defence of its use on class (and queer theoretical) grounds:

 

"I love the exclamation mark with all its thrillingly ambiguous expressive effects. I like its over-the-topness, how it conveys both volume and intensity. I'm not supposed to. I spent nearly four years in academia having the principles of good middle-class prose ironed into me. Snobbery about the exclamation mark is one of those principles: it's tabloidy, a kind of gutter punctuation; it belongs to popular culture, has a rich, kitsch tackiness to it, a tacky kitschiness. It's working-class. It comes from poverty, like me. Proletarian and camp in equal measure. I see the exclamation mark as a species of typographical hyena: no one knows how to read it. Is it a threat? A warning? A joyous whoop? [...] I think of it as queer." [2] 

 

Notes

 

[1] One recalls how upset Elaine got with her writer boyfriend, Jake Jarmel, for his unwillingness to use exclamation marks in the series 5 episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The Sniffing Accountant' (dir. Tom Cherones, 1993): click here to watch the relevant scenes on Youtube. 

 

[2] Fran Lock, speaking in an interview with Karolina Ros Olafsdottir in Issue 100 of Poetry London (Autumn 2021). To read online click here. I have to confess, Lock has almost made me reconsider the question of the exclamation mark. 

Three French Suicides: In Memory of Olga Georges-Picot, Christine Pascal, and Gilles Deleuze

Christine Pascal, Gilles Deleuze & Olga Georges-Picot

 

 

I.

 

Last night, on TV, they were showing one of my favourite films: the British psychological thriller written and directed by Basil Dearden and starring Roger Moore; The Man Who Haunted Himself (1970) [1]. 

 

There are many reasons to love this film, not least of all because it allows one to get a glimpse of the French actress Olga-Georges Picot in a very fetching black bra. She's luscious. She's ravishing. And there are some men who would happily give up red meat to be afforded an opportunity to perv [2] on this Franco-Russian beauty [3] - including Woody Allen, who cast her as Countess Alexandrovna in his 1975 film Love and Death.  

   

Whilst biographical information on her life and career seems to be limited and incomplete, we do know that she commited suicide in June 1997 by jumping from her 5th floor apartment overlooking the river Seine.

 

 

II. 

 

Olga Georges-Picot's death came less than a year after the death - also by suicide and also by jumping out of a window - of the brilliant French actress, writer and director Christine Pascal ... 

 

Interestingly, this multi-talented woman had often reflected philosophically on the question of suicide, and the first film she directed - Félicité (1979) [4] - opens with a suicide scene. Several years later, when asked by an interviewer how she would like to die, she replied: En me suicidant, le moment venu.

 

Well, that time came in August 1996, whilst receiving treatment at a psychiatric hospital in the Paris suburb of Garches [5]. Whether her suicide is best interpreted as a mad act by a mentally ill woman or a voluntary death by an unconventional woman with a penchant for transgressive behaviour is something I'll allow readers to decide [6].    

 

III.

Finally, let us remember Gilles Deleuze ... 

 

Deleuze was a philosopher very much admired by Pascal and one who, like her - and like Georges-Picot - also topped himself by jumping out of a window, when the respiratory conditions that he had long suffered from became increasingly severe [7].     

I remember the excitement news of this event generated in the Philosophy Dept. at Warwick, where I was doing my Ph.D at the time and had just started to read Deleuze's work seriously. Everyone wanted to know if his death came from within or without and pondered the question of whether it marked a loss of desire on his part, or whether the decision to terminate one's own individual existence as a way of affirming life indicates a final resurgence of vitality.  

 

In other words, was his suicide a logical way for Deleuze to show fidelity to his own philosophy, rather than merely a wish to end his suffering?

 

It remains an interesting question, I think ...       

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I have written about this in relation to Daphne du Maurier's 1957 novel The Scapegoat in a post entitled 'Never Give a Doppelgänger the Keys to Your Car ...' (17 June 2020): click here. 

[2] I'm paraphrasing George Costanza interviewing for a secretary in the season six episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The Secretary', (dir. D. Owen Trainor, 1998): click here.  

[3] Olga was was the daughter of Guillaume Georges-Picot, the French Ambassador to China, and a Russian mother, Anastasia Mironovich. She was born in Shanghai, in Japanese-occupied China, in January 1940. 

 

[4] Christine Pascal was born in Lyon in November 1953. She was given a starring role, aged twenty-one, in Michel Mitrani's Les Guichets du Louvre (1974). 

      The film portrays the infamous Vel' d'Hiv' Roundup in 1942, when French police assisted Nazi soldiers in the arrest of over 13,000 Jewish inhabitants of Paris and held them under inhumane conditions prior to their deportation to Auschwitz, where virtually all were murdered. Pascal played a young Jewish woman named Jeanne.

 

[5] Félicité was not only written and directed by Pascal, but she played the lead role too. It was a film that shocked many (even in France) with its explicit sexual content and provocative indecency and cemented her reputation as the mauvaise fille of French cinema.   

 

[6] Somewhat unfairly, I think, the psychiatrist who was caring for Pascal was sentenced in 2003 to twelve months in prison for failing to take appropriate action to prevent her suicide. 

 

[7] Deleuze, who had problems with his breathing even as a youngster, developed tuberculosis in 1968 and underwent surgery to remove a lung. In the final years of his life even writing became increasingly difficult and so, on 4 November 1995, aged seventy, he jumped to his death from the window of his Paris apartment.

 

I Have Nothing To Say

Jiggs the Chimp as Ollie's evolutionary predecessor in  

the Laurel and Hardy film Dirty Work, (dir. Lloyd French 1933) 

 

 

Sometimes, people tell me they would like to begin writing a blog. But when I ask what's stopping them from doing so, they reply:  I have nothing to say.

 

Having nothing to say, however, didn't prevent some truly great artists from producing some very interesting work; one thinks, for example, of Cage and Beckett, both of whom illustrate the crucial function of silence and how you can build upon or radically foreground nothingness: click here. 

 

One thinks also of Seinfeld - a show famous for being about nothing: click here.   

 

And one remembers also Oliver Hardy's refusal to be fazed by or comment upon events in the classic short film Dirty Work (1933). Even when he is devolved into a chimpanzee after falling into a vat containing Prof. Noodle's rejuvination solution, Ollie still has nothing to say: click here. 

 

If, after explaining all this, any would-be blogger still feels at a loss for words, then I advise them to stick with posting pictures of their cat on Instagram. 

 

 

I Love You in Velvet (and Silk Underwear): Notes on the Wagner Case

Richard Wagner in a velvet jacket and hat (1871)

 

There's a man I simply dote on / unlike others of his ilk 

A velvet cloak and hat on / And underwear of silk

 

I.

 

Velvet is a type of woven tufted fabric in which the cut threads are evenly distributed, its short dense pile giving it a distinctive softness. 

 

Whilst today velvet can be made from all kinds of materials - including synthetic fibres - in the past it was typically made from the finest silk, meaning it was expensive and, before the invention of industrial power looms, difficult to produce. 

 

This fact - added to its lush appearance and feel - meant that velvet was often associated with the nobility and high offices of Church and State. King Richard II of England, for example, decreed in his will that his body should be clothed in velvet.

 

During the medieval period, velvet produced in the great Italian cities was thought to be the most magnificent in terms of texture and depth of colour. However, by the 16th-century Flemish weavers had a reputation for making velvets that rivalled those of Venice, Florence, or Genoa.  

 

 

II.

 

Other than Richard II - and George Costanza [1] - the figure who most springs to mind when thinking of those with a penchant for velvet is 19th-century German composer Richard Wagner ...

 

For Wagner, besides being perhaps the greatest genius that ever lived - and a notorious antisemite - was also a bit of a dandy, with an almost fetishistic love for the feel of velvet and silk against his skin. 

 

Indeed, there is some evidence to suggest that his love of finery and frilly silk underwear eventually pushed him in the direction of cross-dressing (not that there's anything wrong with that) [2].

 

Wagner certainly had an eye for fashion and not only paid close attention to his own wardrobe, but that of his wife, Cosima, for whom he would order dresses from Milanese couturiers, providing precise instructions down to the smallest detail concerning the cut, the fabric, the trimmings, etc. 

 

Wagner also loved his velvet curtains and other home furnishings, including rose-scented cushions. 

 

Amusingly, it seems that when his number 1 fan, the young philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, came to stay with him and Cosima at their house in Tribschen, on the shores of Lake Lucerne, Wagner would send him on errands, including picking up his tailor-made silk underwear and velvet outfits - much to Nietzsche's embarrassment.  

 

Fortunately, Nietzsche was able to persuade himself that his actions were justified on the ground that a god need not only be adored, but adorned [3].

Notes

 

[1] In an episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The Doodle [S6/E20], George finally gets to realise his dream - socially acceptable or not - of being able to dress from head-to-toe in velvet. The episode, dir. Andy Ackerman and written by Alec Berg and Jeff Schaffer, originally aired on 6 April 1995. Click here to watch a clip on YouTube.

[2] See Charlotte Higgins; 'Wagner - public genius with a private passion for bustles, bows and bodices', The Guardian (1 March 2007): click here.  

      It should be pointed out that Wagner informed those who were interested in the matter that he had to wear silk next to his skin, because he suffered from erypsipelas (an infection whose symptoms include painful skin-rashes).

 

[3] Nietzsche eventually wised-up and came to perceive Wagner as a decadent sorcerer, who, like some dreadful disease, contaminates culture and makes music sick. See Nietzsche contra Wagner (1899), in which he expresses his disappointment and frustration with his former idol (whilst still praising him on several occasions).

 

 

Musical bonus: Malcolm McLaren, 'I Like You in Velvet', from the album Waltz Darling (Epic, 1989): click here. The little verse at the top of this post is a paraphrase of the opening verse to this track.  

It's Creepy and It's Kooky, Mysterious and Spooky: Mark Fisher's The Weird and the Eerie (Part 1)

Front cover image from Mark Fisher's 

The Weird and the Eerie (Repeater Books, 2016)

 

 

I. 

 

Let me confess from the outset that one of the main problems I have with Mark Fisher's work is that I'm unfamiliar with many of the books, films, and records that he chooses as points of reference, so often feel unable to comment. Thus, I intend sticking here to his more general remarks on the weird and the eerie, about which I feel better able to discuss.

 

According to Mark Fisher, the weird and the eerie are closely related (but distinct) modes of strangeness, each with their own properties. The former draws our attention to that which does not belong and instills a sense of wrongness; the latter troubles the notion of agency (human and non-human) and makes us question existence and non-existence. 

 

Neither terrifies or deeply distresses, so much as make us feel vaguely apprehensive or uneasy.    

 

And neither has much to do with with Freud's concept of the unheimlich and should not be equated to the latter. The attempt to do so, says Fisher, is "symptomatic of a secular retreat from the outside" [a]; i.e., returning to the safety of a long familiar (if hugely influential) idea that ultimately serves to domesticate and contain the outside "in terms of a modernist family drama" [10]. 

 

 

II.

 

Perhaps not surprisingly, Fisher begins his study of the weird by turning to H. P. Lovecraft - a writer whom Graham Harman predicts will one day displace Hölderlin as the philosopher's favourite [b] and someone who intuitively grasped that nothing is weirder than reality (i.e., the natural-material cosmos).

 

As Fisher rightly says, when you really stop to think about it, a black hole is weirder than a vampire or werewolf. 

 

Lovecraft is the daddy of weird fiction; the man who long before George Michael encouraged characters and readers alike to venture outside - even if doing so "often ends in breakdown and psychosis" [16] for the former and fascination "mixed with a certain trepidation" [17] for the latter.

 

There is nothing surprising or suspensful or even truly terrible in Lovecraft's weird tales. And yet they compel our attention, even as they repel us at the same time with their inhuman quality; i.e., their insistence that "human concerns, perspectives and concepts have only a local reference" [18].    

Fisher is spot-on to insist that Lovecraft is neither a horror writer nor a fantasy author; that his weird realism is something very different from either of these genres and that his tales "depend for their power on the difference between the terrestrial-empirical and the outside" [20][c] and on their sheer originality.

 

 

III.

 

Like Lovecraft, H. G. Wells also understood something of the weird, even if his work is, in many respects, very different from the former's. 

 

One thing both writers shared is a concern with thresholds and the fatal possibility of "contact between incommensurable worlds" [28], an idea best illustrated in an episode of Seinfeld when George's independence (and sanity) are threatened by the transcendental shock of worlds colliding [d].   

 

It's probably always best (if not always possible) to keep worlds apart, although the weird, as a phenomenon, is that which unfolds in the space between them. 

 

 

IV.  

 

Moving on, Fisher introduces a notion of the grotesque, which, like the weird, "evokes something which is out of place" [32] - although unlike the latter it often evokes laughter (the only humour in Lovecraft, says Fisher, is accidental).

 

And the "confluence of the weird and the grotesque is no better exemplified than in the work of the post-punk group The Fall" [33], particularly in the period 1980-82. 

Unfortunately, my knowledge of Mark E. Smith's combo is limited. In fact, I can only name one of their songs; the 1980 single 'How I Wrote Elastic Man' (and that's only because I often heard it on John Peel, not because I went out and bought it). 

 

So I'll just have to take Fisher's word for it when he insists The Fall "are remarkabe for the way in which they draw out a cultural politics of the weird and the grotesque" [33] and produced "what could be called a popular modernist weird [...] with all the difficulties and compulsions of post-punk sound" [33] [e].

 

In the same period Fisher was getting worked up over The Fall, I was listening to Adam and the Ants and Bow Wow Wow and had more interest in post-punk piracy than the weird and grotesque; indeed, I seem to remember finding groups like The Fall too depressing (perhaps even too Northern) for my tastes; even their laughter issues "from a psychotic outside" [35] and that didn't sound very funny to me at the time.           

 

However, if what Fisher says is true, I would probably find The Fall more amusing now (although I suspect I would still find them a band more interesting to read about, than fun to listen to).   

 

 

V.

 

Is there not an intrinsically weird dimension to the time travel story? 

Mark Fisher thinks so:

 

"By its very nature, the time travel story [...] combines entities and objects that do not belong together. Here the threshold between worlds is the apparatus that allows travel between different time periods [...] and the weird effect typically manifests as a sense of achronism." [40]

 

Again, that's one of those true-but-kind-of-obvious statements that Fisher seems to specialise in. Here's another: time-paradoxes also trigger a feeling weirdness. Indeed - who would argue with that?  

 

 

VI.

 

"There is another type of weird effect that is generated by strange loops [...] not just tangles in cause and effect [...] but confusions of ontological level." [45]

 

These confusions particularly play out at the level of simulacra and simulation, putting the nature of being and reality into question - just ask Thomas (Neo) Anderson. Or Baudrillard. Is there anything weirder than living in a world one knows to be a cleverly constructed simulation but which still feels real?      

 

 

VII.

 

If it wasn't in the least surprising that Fisher should open his study of the weird with Lovecraft, it's equally unsurprising that he should close it with the director of Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks, David Lynch.

 

For in many ways Fisher seems weirdly trapped in the 1980s and '90s; a man still gripped by the same philosophical ideas (and postmodern obsessions) that shaped his thinking when writing his Ph.D. on cybernetic fiction-theory [f]. Indeed, Fisher readily admits that his fascination with the weird and eerie goes back as far as he can remember. 

     

Now, whilst some might suggest he move on and find new interests, I rather admire the manner in which he has stayed true to the authors, singers, and filmmakers, he loves best. But David Lynch isn't a particular favourite of mine, I'm afraid; there are certainly films by the other two Davids - Fisher and Cronenberg - I like more than Mulholland Drive (2001), though they're perhaps not as weird in the sense that Fisher uses the term.   

 

As for Inland Empire (2006), not only have I not seen it, I've not even heard of it - how weird is that?

 

 

Notes

 

[a] Mark Fisher, The Weird and the Eerie, (Repeater Books, 2016), p. 10. Future page references to this work will be given directly in the main text. 

 

[b] See Graham Harman, Weird Realism: Lovecraft and Philosophy (Zero Books, 2012).

 

[c] Just to be clear: "The outside is not 'empirically' exterior; it is transcendentally exterior; i.e. it is not just a matter of something being distant in space and time, but of something which is beyond our ordinary experience and conception of space and time itself." - Mark Fisher, The Weird and the Eerie, p. 22. 

 

[d] Seinfeld, 'The Pool Guy' [S7/E8], dir. Andy Ackerman, written by David Mandel (1995). Click here to observe the devastating effect it has upon George's mental health when he experiences the colliding of worlds: George is getting upset! Nevertheless, it's interesting to note that this tale unfolds within a weirdly comic universe, rather than a weirdly tragic or melancholic one.

 

[e] Perhaps the only author who writes with such intense conviction about the pop music they love is poet and playwright Síomón Solomon; see his 2020 text Hölderlin's Poltergeists in which he celebrates that other critically-acclaimed post-punk band from Manchester, Joy Division.     

 

[f] Fisher's Ph.D. thesis was entitled: Flatline constructs: Gothic materialism and cybernetic theory-fiction. It was completed in the Philosophy Dept. at the University of Warwick and submitted in July 1999. A PDF of this work is available via the University of Warwick publications service website: click here. The first line opens with the words "Isn't it strange [...]". 

      Fisher was a founding member of the interdisciplinary collective inspired by the work of Nick Land and Sadie Plant known as the Cybernetic Culture Research Unit. Although I was also in the Philosophy Dept. at Warwick at this time and initially had Land as my Graduate Progress Committee member overseeing my own doctoral research project, I never crossed paths with Fisher, which, looking back, I now rather regret.  

 

 

Part two of this post - on the eerie - can be read by clicking here.