The deconstructive soapy stud
When AKMA mentioned that he’d “be spending some time with Prof. Derrida next week,” the thought immediately came to mind that I should ask our learned chaplain to kick the old French fart in the shins for me (so deep is my loathing for pomo theory). Two quite different sources forced me to revise my opinion of Derrida.
The first—following a link from the comments on that post—was the essay by Christopher Norris in which he argues convincingly (to me anyway) that Derrida is not a postmodernist at all. The second, more persuasive text, was the Derrida movie (quoted by Jacob Goodson), which provides documentary evidence that the beloved philosopher does the dishes at home. A “deconstructive soapy stud” indeed. AKMA added:
If only he had the good judgment to take up blogging, we’d have a veritable supermodel for the “Sudsy Studs of Cyberspace” calendar. Speaking of which, Jonathon had better get working on the production end of it for it to be ready for holiday gift-giving. Maybe that’s what he’s up to now. . . .
I didn’t realize I’d been lumbered with the task of actually producing the “Sudsy Studs of Cyberspace” calendar. When I last checked we were bogged down on the issue of Si’s participation, given the level of nudity traditionally required in sudsy-style calendars.
But Derrida’s potential inclusion totally alters the commercial viablility of the project. Couldn’t we quickly set up a blog for him? An el cheapo Blog*Spot account would do. (I’ve just checked and derrida.blogspot.com is available—it might even be worth soliciting donations for a $5 a month Blog*Spot Plus account.)
I thought that Derrida might round out the dozen but currently the roster stands at eight (if we tone down the nudity to include Si):
If you find your calendar one month short, I’m also an inveterate dishwasher, by the way.
Ray, your presence would be greatly appreciated, assuming you can provide photographic evidence that you are familiar with the latest dishwashing technology (i.e. a Dishmatique-style device). Derrida, on the other hand, gets a free pass—as does David Salo, even though he uses just a dishcloth and a couple of nylon scrubby pads. After all, “the guy who did the Elvish for the Lord of the Rings movies” need make no concessions to modernity.
That leaves two slots. Further nominations are eagerly anticipated (I’m hoping to hear from one of the Wealth Bondage team—the Happy Tutor or Dick Minim preferably, since not in my wildest dreams do I envisage Candidia Cruickshanks as a sudsy stud).