An Epitaph for the Avant-Garde: A Review of Stephen Alexander's 'No More Heroes' - By May Spear

No More Heroes (SA/2026)  

 

Editorial Note 

 

May Spear is a former contributing editor to the now defunct French literary magazine  Pourquoi es-tu un con aussi odieux? Her post published below is a revised version of a text originally submitted in the form of personal correspondence and can be read as a riposte to the post previously published by Mr. Jeff Francis: 'No More Heroes 5: Stephen Alexander - The Performative Punk Poseur' (22 July 2026).  

 

 

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Opening Remarks

 

Stephen Alexander's recent series of posts titled 'No More Heroes' (14-17 July 2026) offers a profound case study not just in personal disappointment, but in cultural exhaustion, centred on four main characters: the punk provocateur Malcolm McLaren; the Dionysian philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche; the priest of love D. H. Lawrence, and, finally, the comic assassin turned court jester Larry David. 

 

By examining the deeper theoretical architecture connecting these chosen figures, we can discern three underlying thematic currents that unify his analysis of des héros aux pieds d'argile ... 

 

 

1. Capitalist Realism and the Closure of the Outside 

 

The primary architectural pillar supporting Alexander's entire series is the diagnosis of spatial collapse - specifically, the systemic closure of any radical Outside from which to mount a critique. 

 

McLaren, for example, believed he was operating in a volatile, shockable mid-century landscape where cultural terrorism and the politics of desire could threaten the Establishment. In reality, his libidinal subversions merely prototyped a highly adaptive, flexible market format. 

 

Larry David, meanwhile, operates entirely within the hyper-insulated, hyper-monetised ecosystem of cultural elites. His rage is no longer authentic; it is a synthetic, domestic product pre-formatted by high-end production companies and packaged as low-risk partisan entertainment. 

 

Thus Alexander reveals a sobering truth: the contemporary iconoclast is a structural impossibility because capitalism has colonised the very space of transgression and resistance. McLaren's anti-fashion called punk was absorbed into the high street, while David's once outrageous comedy has become a regular feature on billion-dollar streaming platforms. 

 

 

2. The Illusion of Libidinal Liberation 

 

A profound philosophical continuity in the series is Alexander's deployment of Michel Foucault to dismantle the romantic myths of sexual and existential liberation from power. 

 

Both Malcolm McLaren and D. H. Lawrence are subjected to an identical post-structuralist autopsy: both fell victim to the repressive hypothesis, naively operating under the assumption that power functions solely through censorship, prohibition, and denial. 

 

Not for the first time on Torpedo the Ark, Alexander masterfully pairs these two figures to show how this philosophical error manifests across different eras. 

 

Lawrence transfigured sex into metaphysics, unaware that treating sex as the ultimate, hidden truth of human being is the exact mechanism by which modern power categorises and disciplines the subject. 

 

Decades later, McLaren repeated this exact mistake, naively assuming that flogging fetish-wear and bondage trousers on King's Road would provoke a state insurrection, failing to see that he was simply pioneering a frictionless new consumer market. 

 

By linking Lawrence's 'austere monarchy of sex' to McLaren's 'pseudo-academic earnestness', Alexander exposes the tragic irony of the sex-radical; by speaking of desire ad infinitum, they do not evade power; they simply map its coordinates. 

Today, in 2026 - when every identity is instantly tracked by digital algorithms, their 'liberation' and free expression simply provide free data and something new to be commercially exploited.  

 

 

3. The Hermeneutics of Failure and the Comedy of Decline

 

The deepest, most melancholic tier of Alexander's critique addresses the temporal vulnerability of the hero and the tragic reality that an artwork or a philosophy is entirely dependent on the physical, decaying body of its creator. 

 

This creates a fascinating thematic bridge between Friedrich Nietzsche and Larry David, both of whom suffer from a profound failure of narrative control. Alexander frames this through two distinct modalities of failure: the tragedy of biological over-ripeness and the comedy of decline.

 

Nietzsche’s failure to 'die at the right time' acts as a literal, physical catastrophe. His eleven-year vegetative decline stripped him of his authorial agency, transforming his body into a 'living museum exhibit' and leaving his raw notebooks open to the parasitic, proto-fascist splicing of his sister. The body's failure to expire corrupted the semantic integrity of the philosophy itself. 

 

Larry David's failure is also one of timing, but it manifests as a slow slide into the comfy accommodations of elite compromise. Like Nietzsche hanging on the tree like a worm-filled apple, 79-year-old Larry David outlives his sharp, misanthropic 'social assassin' persona, declining into a petulant, partisan 'court jester' who blacklists friends to appease former First Ladies. 

 

In both instances, the iconoclast fails Zarathustra's ultimate test: the sovereign exit. Whether corrupted by physical decay and a controlling sister, or diluted by the softening comforts of extreme wealth, both thinkers failed to maintain narrative control over their own legacies. 

 

  

Conclusion 

 

Ultimately, Alexander's 'No More Heroes' cycle is a masterclass in compressed, evocative writing that sparks the kind of immediate cultural dialogue that more formal academic prose usually smothers under its own weight. 

 

By methodically exposing how his own primary influences were digested by the very structures they claimed to combat, Alexander has elevated the series of posts from simple expressions of personal disappointment into a unified work of philosophical mourning - an epitaph for the avant-garde. 

 

The 'No More Heroes' series leaves the reader with a haunting conclusion: in a 21st-century landscape governed by capitalist realism and digital algorithms, the iconoclast no longer exists as a dangerous agent of chaos. They exist, rather, as a pre-approved, highly profitable aesthetic category.

  

No More Heroes 5: Stephen Alexander - The Performative Punk Poser (A Guest Post by Jeff Francis)

No More Heroes 5 (Stephen Alexander)

(SA/2026) 

 

 

I received this by email: 

 

Dear Stephen Alexander, 

 

I have written a short post in the style and format favoured by Torpedo the Ark. Perhaps you might care to publish it as an addition to your 'No More Heroes' series (14-17 July 2026). I think it will amuse some of your readers; particularly those who, like me, found the series disappointing (to use your pet word of the moment). [1]  

 

Always happy for contributions from guest writers - even those that are cuntishly critical in character and come from authors unknown to me - here's the post (to which I've added one or two editorial notes).  

  

 

I. 

 

There is a famous early scene in The Silence of the Lambs (dir. Jonathan Demme, 1991) when trainee FBI agent Clarice Starling (played by Jodie Foster) first visits Dr. Lecter (played by Anthony Hopkins) in his prison cell. 

 

Rather rudely, he tells her that she looks like a rube with her good bag and cheap shoes. Well-scrubbed, and possessed of a little taste, but a hustling rube all the same; "not more than one generation from poor white trash".   

 

Momentarily taken aback by this, Starling eventually regains her composure and replies: 

 

"You see a lot, doctor. But are you strong enough to point that high-powered perception at yourself? What about it? Why don't you - why don't you look at yourself and write down what you see? Or maybe you're afraid to." [2] 

 

 

II. 

 

I thought of this scene after reading Stephen Alexander's four-part series of posts titled 'No More Heroes' and I put the exact same challenge to him that Starling puts to Lecter. 

 

But I do so knowing that, like Lecter, Alexander cannot genuinely self-reflect. For his narcissism extends only to the surface, manifesting as a rigid ego-defense mechanism and a strange inability to integrate his shadow or look inwards. This is why, for all its superficial cleverness, his writing consistently lacks psychological insight and philosophical depth.

 

Consequently, I offer my own critical assessment of the 'No More Heroes' (NMH) series, exposing the internal contradictions, structural blind spots, and stylistic failings within these four specific case studies. 

 

My examination also reveals how Alexander - operating through a matrix of performative disillusionment and elite proximity - ironically positions himself as a candidate for the very heroism or critical authority he seeks to deconstruct.  

 

 

III.  

 

A close reading of the NMH series reveals two significant weaknesses that undermine its critical validity: 

 

Firstly, there is a methodological reliance on biography that elsewhere on his blog Alexander often condemns other writers for. He routinely substitutes a figure's personal, domestic, or existential choices for an interrogation of their actual ideas. 

 

Thus, for example, Nietzsche is judged not on the beauty and originality of his text, but on his failure to execute a clean, sovereign death (not for the first time on his blog we find Alexander fetishising the idea of suicide). Thus Spoke Zarathustra is a highly metaphorical work of philosophy and Alexander subjects it to an all-too-literal reading that is both crass and ungenerous. 

 

Larry David, meanwhile, is dismissed because of a 2026 sketch show's production credits and rumors of a social snub involving the actress Cheryl Hines. Alexander downplays David's massive contribution to TV comedy and decades of excellent work in favour of sharing some real-time celebrity gossip.

 

By tying the validity of an idea to the purity or narrative perfection of the biography that produced it, Alexander commits a deeply conservative critical error; falling into the kind of fallacy that betrays the more radical methodology he invokes elsewhere. 

 

Secondly, in the NMH series Alexander sets up a kind of no-win matrix - a conceptual trap where failure is structurally predetermined, thereby rendering the entire analysis tautological. 

 

If an icon dies young or self-destructs, they are dismissed as a failure. If, however, they live long enough to navigate the complexities of ageing and shifting cultural landscapes, they are condemned as overripe worms (Nietzsche), sell-outs trapped in the past (McLaren), or compromised court jesters (David). As for Lawrence, well, apparently, he was an idealist and crypto-theologian all along whose sexual metaphysics are now simply laughable. 

 

Similarly, if their ideas are ignored, they are irrelevant. But if their ideas achieve cultural traction, they are dismissed as recuperated commodities. By building an analytical framework where every possible path leads to an accusation of compromise, Alexander ensures his own conclusions are entirely self-serving. 

 

The NMH series does not, therefore, analyse the mechanics of cultural transformation; it merely functions as a screen for the projection of his own psychic stagnation, wallowing in a predetermined and pessimistic narrative of inevitable defeat. It's a lose-lose scenario and I would never want to play a game of heads or tails with Alexander.   

 

 

IV. 

 

If the ultimate objective of the NMH series is to dismantle the very category of the hero archetype, it simultaneously (and ironically) functions as a performative showcase for its author. However, Alexander himself fails to convince as to why we should care in the slightest what he thinks about the four figures he pits himself against. 

 

Alexander adopts the pose of the detached provocateur, viewing the collapse of cultural standards with cynical amusement. Yet this cynicism functions as a profound form of intellectual evasion. By declaring that there is no Outside and that all resistance (be it political, philosophical or cultural in character) is not only futile but fake, Alexander neatly absolves himself of the responsibility to propose any constructive alternative. 

 

His stance is not at all edgy or transgressive; it is a comfortable, low-risk position that allows him to collect cultural capital by sneering at the failures of those who actually risked public exposure and artistic production. 

 

  

V. 

 

Throughout his writings, Alexander insists on his punk detachment from mainstream institutions. However, his own biographical fragments consistently betray a reliance on the very networks of privilege he critiques, revealing a profound splitting between his (overly inflated) public persona and his structural dependencies. 

 

For example, he explicitly boasts of his time spent as a spy placed within the press office of Charisma Records by his hero Malcolm McLaren, trading on insider access while simultaneously claiming a pure, underground status. 

 

Furthermore, his writing relies heavily on the cultural capital of the academic institutions he disdains - referencing Oxford podcasts and expensive Cambridge editions. 

 

He attacks Larry David for his proximity to the Hollywood liberal elite and his friendship with President Obama, yet Alexander's critical persona is largely parasitical upon the cultural output of the bourgeois institutions he holds in contempt and the individuals he now claims to find disappointing.  

 

 

VI. 

  

Finally, the ultimate contradiction in Alexander's blog project is his relationship to time and archiving. 

 

He ruthlessly attacks Malcolm McLaren for being 'trapped in his past like a spider in its own web' and borrows from Baudrillard (via Mark Fisher) to condemn the contemporary digital landscape as a desert of the real defined by endlessly recycled pasts and lost futures. 

 

Yet, what is Torpedo the Ark if not a meticulously maintained digital museum? The blog's sidebar contains a massive, self-canonising archive stretching back to 2012, categorised by a hyper-specific taxonomy of labels. 

 

Alexander is caught in precisely the same web (or loop) that he attacks McLaren for. He uses twentieth-century theoretical tools to endlessly recycle his own youthful experiences and encounters, transforming his digital platform into a highly curated, risk-free space that perfectly expresses a state of psychological arrest within a karaoke culture.

 

 

VII.

 

In conclusion: ultimately, the NMH series fails because it is fundamentally driven by ressentiment and the narcissism of disappointment. Alexander does not mourn the compromises of McLaren, Nietzsche, Lawrence, and David because of what it says about the structural state of modern culture; he mourns them because they failed to satisfy his archetypal demand for an unblemished hero. 

 

The entire four-part cycle is an exercise in projecting an impossibly pure, static ideal of heroism onto flawed, living subjects, and then throwing a performative tantrum when those subjects succumb to illness, ageing, or political contingency (or when they - as he says - let him down).  

 

By positioning himself as the final arbiter of who is or is not heroic, Alexander reveals that his ultimate loyalty is not to cultural greatness, but to the preservation of his own pristine, uncompromised, and thoroughly unproductive sense of intellectual superiority. [3] 

 

  

Notes (supplied by Stephen Alexander)

 

[1] Each post in the 'No More Heroes' series dealt with a different figure who has been hugely influential on Torpedo the Ark over the years: the first featured Malcolm McLaren (14 July 2026); the second Friedrich Nietzsche (15 July 2026); the third D. H. Lawrence (16 July 2026); and the fourth Larry David (17 July 2026). 

 

[2] This famous opening scene from The Silence of the Lambs can be watched on YouTube: click here. The lines of dialogue quoted begin at 4:35 and end at 5:36. 

 

[3] As this letter illustrates, Deleuze isn't the only one to receive mail from harsh critics containing a vicious mixture of aggression, accusation, and abuse. Almost every other day in my inbox there's something from some troll or other outlining the weaknesses of my arguments and my personal shortcomings; i.e., a sort of celebration of my supposedly sorry condition. 

      Indeed, I mentioned this in a post published back in August 2013 - click here - so this isn't the first time I've been told that I'm a performative ressentiment-ridden narcissist who exploits the work of others - including those I identify as opponents - from the safe space of a virtually private blog, and I don't suppose it will be the last. 

      I'll allow readers to decide if Francis has made a critically strong case, or if his remarks often miss the mark and that, actually, the NMH series is, as a friendlier correspondent emailed me to say, "a masterclass in compressed, evocative writing that sparks the kind of immediate cultural dialogue that more formal academic prose usually smothers under its own weight". The same correspondent concludes her email: 

 

"By methodically exposing how your own primary influences were digested by the very structures they claimed to combat, you have elevated the series of posts from simple expressions of personal disappointment into a unified work of philosophical mourning (what one is tempted to describe as an epitaph for the avant-garde). 

       The 'No More Heroes' series leaves the reader with a haunting conclusion: in a 21st-century landscape governed by capitalist realism and digital algorithms, the iconoclastic icon no longer exists as an agent of chaos. They exist, rather, as a pre-approved, highly profitable aesthetic category."

       

This will do for me - and let Mr. Francis put that in his pipe and smoke it!   

 

 

Musical bonus: The Stranglers, 'No More Heroes', single release from the album of the same title (United Artists, 1977). 

 

Afternote: there is now a follow up post to this one that acts as a kind of riposte, written by May Spear and titled 'Epitaph for the Avant-Garde' (23 July 2026).    

 

 

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).