I, Pierre Rivière

by Michel Foucault



The latest soul-crunching compilation from DJ MF has dropped!

DJ MF is a Poitiers-based electronic-music producer known for bringing an undiluted sound of the underground to new audiences. From his work as a founding member of the infamous History of Systems of Thought Crew to his groundbreaking solo work, DJ MF (born Michel Foucault) has always been known for shattering genre conventions while moving crowds everywhere from France to California's famed UC Berkeley Club. From his breakthrough 1961 hit “Android Porn” off the album Madness and Civilization to the innovative bangers comprising his latest e.p. History of Sexuality (Alpha Pulp), DJ MF continues to hybridize hip-hop, dubstep, dancehall, social theory, postmodernism, poststructuralism, a Nietzschean systematization of the genealogy of morality, and prolly lotz of other off-the-hook dope ass shit with his usual face-melting panache and cock rockin roll bravado.

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TRACK LIST

1. "I'm Just Misunderstood by Fascist Capitalist Society Please Defend My Actions a Century Later"
by Talking Heads

2. "It Hurts Inside My Mind Oh What a Postmodern Puzzle"
by John Cage

3. "Say Hello to My Little Friend the Pruning Hook"
by Kraddy

4. "Must Kill Mommy Cause Mommy Was Mean to Me & Daddy"
by Suicidal Tendencies

5. "Better Kill Sister Too (Women Confuse Me)"
by Sonic Youth

6. "Wish I Could Kill All Women"
by Miles Davis

7. "Mon Frere Le Petit Pédé! Mourir, Pédé, Mourir!!"
by Pussy Tourette

8. "So Yeah I Left Daddy Alive/Whatever, I Do What I Wanna Do I'm Pierre Riviere"
by The Ramones

9. "People know what they do; frequently they know why they do what they do; but what they don't know is what what they do does"
by Johnny Paycheck

12. "An Obscure Murder Case Shall Prove My Thesis So Suck It Salopes"
by John Zorn

A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again

by David Foster Wallace



he picked up a book. he read the book. it was him all over. the best version of himself! and the worst.



what is postmodernism, really? is it a way to understand the world, to define the world, to separate yourself from the world... when you are actually a part of that world? a part of the so-called problem? you want to put a layer between you and the world. you are so much apart from it, right? an unwilling participant in all of those repulsive patriarchal and terminally corny signs and signifiers, things that disgust you, it's not fair, just because you happen to have the misfortune to be born straight & white & male and, as they say, privileged. you need the distance, the alienation, the angst of being someone, something, anything, apart... because you know you are different. right? you just know it. you enjoy things and yet you don't enjoy them, you enjoy not enjoying them, your layer of hipster irony protects you and maybe fulfills you. and you will never admit that. you self deprecate, in your own egotistical way. you are the boss of you; no one can take that away. everything is so corny and full of bullshit, surely they must see that. and yet there must be truth there, if you look for it. you tell yourself that. you write a book, a great book about life and love and living and loving, etc. you write a book, or imagine yourself writing a book. it is not this book. this book is all about the unimportant things, the annoying things, the fake shit and all the bullshit. does it satisfy you? not really. so you read a book. you feel better. let the irony take over, it comforts you. you are not angry, not angry at all. you laugh at all that fake shit, all the bullshit. angry is a hot emotion. you don't feel those, at least not anymore.



you go to a movie set. Lost Highway. you try to keep an open mind but it is all fake, it is all bullshit. there are too many assholes in the world! and yet the director at the center of it all is not fake, he is not bullshit, he's not an asshole. does he understand something about life that you do not? what does he understand, what does he know? you want to know. he is just being himself, and you don't understand that. or maybe you do. it all makes you deeply uncomfortable.

you go to a fair; you go on a cruise. both are depressing. but funny! the kind of funny that you can only sheepishly admit. perhaps you are a part of the problem; it is people who look just like you who created this world that you despise. you try to enjoy the fair. you try to enjoy the cruise. you take enjoyment from your lack of enjoyment. you write a book, a collection of short works, at times even a "personal narrative". that's the phrase, right? you personally inject yourself into the narrative, into this ridiculous world. you feel better! but not really. fuck this life. fuck this earth. there is only one way to live in this life and that is through the glass of irony, a postmodern form of protection, the strongest barrier, it will protect you, just breathe, you know you can do it, it's not so bad,

.

my name is mark. i'm not white, not really, only half-white, does that count as white? i don't feel white, however that feels. i am bisexual, no really. i veer gay if that it makes it easier to swallow. oh and i wasn't born in this country, this U.S. of fucking A. and hey, what's money? i've never had it; i'll never get it. and who the fuck is David Foster Wallace? i dunno. he's some dude that everyone jacks off to, apparently.



i have a friend named Benji - a golden lad (i look at him through the lense of my very first impression, forever ingrained). he is nothing like DFW. once he talked about how he doesn't see race or class or sexuality, because he's never had to. he was raised by good progressives; he was raised to love life. nice life! he talked about how he wished everyone could be like him, not white or straight or a guy or from money or whatever, but able to look at things like they were and not let all the bullshit get them down, and so just live. not assign guilt or blame, just to understand, or try to, and then move on. not judge. you know, it should be easy, life should be easy, why isn't it? i listened to him say these things and i thought i wish. i wish i could be that way. you are so naive, Benji. i fucking hate you. i fucking love you. DFW is the opposite of Benji. and yet, and yet... is the difference merely a question of awareness? of critical distance? i can't imagine being a person like Benji, being that blithe. and he's not even that blithe. but i think Benji could enjoy a county fair, an awful cruise, he could enjoy it without irony i think. maybe. certainly without that underlying feeling of sadness and, yep, i won't pretend, without the condescending irritation at the futility of all these fucking gestures, the fake shit and the bullshit, the power imbalances, the need to make form equal meaning. i love Benji but i'm not sure i understand him. so why do i understand David Foster Wallace? he is nothing like me. he is like Benji. straight white male; money: not a problem. what do i have in common with David Foster Wallace? nothing. the idea is ludicrous. and yet, and yet... why do i read him and feel like i am reading my own thoughts, right there on the page? my own thoughts, staring back at me.

Them: Adventures with Extremists

by Jon Ronson





What is the Bilderberg Group? Is it a self-interested but vaguely benevolent private club composed of international movers & shakers who come together annually to discuss "government and politics, finance, industry, labour, education and communications"? Or is it a nefarious group of power brokers and nation breakers - the Secret Rulers of the World?

Who is David Icke? Goofy New Age conspiracy nut who believes our leaders actually belong to 1 of 16 sinister alien-reptile species? Or a misunderstood questioner of the powers that be?

Who is Ku Klux Klansman Thom Robb? Who is Omar Bakri Muhammad? Who is Ian Paisley? What really happened on Ruby Ridge?

But most important to me as a reader... who is Jon Ronson?

Is Jon Ronson a semi-comic journalist, author, and documentarian who has made a career out of puncturing various blowhards - in particular self-important politicians and freaky cult-style leaders? Is Jon Ronson a passive milquetoast who quivers in fear at the slightest threat? Is he an obnoxiously "neutral" and unusually self-absorbed member of the press corps... the sort of ruthlessly clueless reporter who would forget about pulling a kid out of burning car just so that he could take some cool snaps... the kind of hopelessly naive person who pretends that no one is truly capable of enacting evil - after all, you just gotta look under the surface and we're all just silly, harmless humans who couldn't hurt a fly, right? Or is Jon Ronson simply an adorable wet kitty cat?



This collection of anecdotes focusing on the "human elements" of various controversial figures and groups - with a brief but poignant (and ultimately infuriating) stop-off into the world of Ruby Ridge - is fast-paced and consistently amusing. I really appreciated the humanization of the assorted extremists - it fit right into my cynical-but-basically-humanistic perspective. People ARE funny. And even villains are people too, right? They have their little human foibles. No person is all bad or all good and everyone has their personal context and everyone is three-dimensional blah blah blah.

This has been a surprisingly popular book for a couple groups of friends. So let me talk about them for a little bit. These friends are: semi college educated & college educated & college - yeah right; work with their hands (so to speak), or not - but not office drones either; somewhat anti-intellectual; staunchly pro-human rights; semi hard-drinkin' family men... the kind of assortment of social work & blue collar & non-corporate, hates-all-politicians kind of guys who form a surprisingly large portion of the Democratic Party's backbone. Factor in youths spent in various alternate subcultures and you have in some ways an ideal audience for this novel. In an engagingly sardonic and self-effacing style, the book reveals who the assholes are and how fucked up governments are and points out the hypocrisy of certain extremists - fun stuff. Heads nod in agreement, including mine. And under all the mild snark and comfy irony is an almost sweetly idealistic theme of "people are just people". Awww, shucks.

Unlike my friends, I'm a Queer White Collar Nerd. But I doubt that that has anything to do with my different reaction. My friends are not naive (and, I should add, they are awesome), so maybe I'm just more of a prick. Whatever the reason may be, I didn't enjoy this as much as everyone else did. I really wonder why. This book annoyed me, sometimes even disgusted or angered me - but not because of Them's various subjects. JON RONSON was the problem. Oops, almost forgot my meaningless Venn Diagram:



Anyway, I enjoyed it enough to give it 2 stars. It was fun. Cute even, at times. People and their little foibles, amused sigh. Crazy people sure are crazy, good grief! And yet they're human too, my goodness! Funny crazy humans!

Eyeroll. I have some questions for you, Jon Ronson:

- What is your problem with being a Jew? My God man, have some fucking pride! I'll give you this: you acknowledge your unseemly hypocrisy in buddying up with various creeps who base their careers on demonizing jewish folks and who actually fund groups whose intent is to Kill Jews. Yes, you acknowledge that practising dishonesty by omission made you feel bad. But you continued to do it! At one point you fantasize about sabatoging an effort calling for the decimation of your people. All you had to do was throw away some horrifically offensive flyers. And yet you do nothing, not the slightest thing, you just wish you could do something, and then you move on with a shrug. I'm sorry, but I'm just not cool with that. Have some balls. I don't respect pussies just because they admit that they are pussies. Fine, thanks for being honest - but you are still a pussy. Am I supposed to be charmed by your sheepish confessions and your continual lack of backbone?

(Sorry for Pussy. I know it is offensive and misogynistic. But honestly I can't think of a more appropriate word. Maybe I'll come back and edit this review after I've thought of a better one.)

- Do you really think the Bilderberg Group is simply an overhyped bunch of harmless (albeit security-happy and obnoxiously exclusive) businessmen? Do you truly think they have had no impact whatsoever on the various events that have happened on the world stage? Are you that stunningly naive? Do you actually work for the Bilderberg Group?

- Don't you believe in checking out someone's background before you go a-spyin' with him in Spain? I'll give the Good Ole Boy in question his props: he didn't seem like a complete idiot. But you didn't bother to check out the rag he edits first? You are surprised that his small-town rag published some virulently racist articles? As a journalist, you didn't think it was necessary to check out his actual work before going on a super secret spy mission with him? Do you think that just because someone is garrulous and down-to-earth that they can't be capable of doing things that are incredibly wrong?

- Why didn't you mention that you had filmed a documentary on Ian Paisley prior to meeting him? You paint this scary blowhard as oh so mean to poor wittle Jon Ronson - Paisley's monstrous rudeness just comes out of nowhere. Don't you think it was at all necessary to declare your past history with the gent in question? That chapter functioned as a near hit piece... why? Sweet revenge for past insults?

- Do you think that writing a narrative, reporting a story, being a documentarian... somehow lets you off the hook when it comes to basic decency? I hate frickin' excuses, and in particular I hate excuses that are trying to let someone off the hook out of doing the right thing. Case in point: you are aware that some jackasses are planning to physically and publically humiliate a guy who you know is not a bad guy, who is not a racist or anti-semite or whatever... you know that what the jackasses are planning to do is completely unjust... the guy bares his soul to you, including all about his greatest fear: public humiliation, ON THE WAY TO THE WHERE THE PUBLIC ATTACK IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN... and you do nothing. Journalistic integrity, I suppose, right? Must not interfere, right? Fuck off! So it didn't turn out how the jackasses wanted it to turn out. So what? It could have - and you did nothing. I really wanted to kick your ass after that sequence.

- Do you truly believe that the Fourth Estate is unbiased and objective? In your quest to understand extremists and extremism, to show the human inside the monster, to show the basic foolishness of man... have you forgotten that people actually die for their beliefs...that words and actions sometimes have meaning? Your chapter on Ruby Ridge was the only place I found genuine anger... are you afraid of anger? Are you afraid of being disgusted by people who do truly disgusting things? Is the world and all of its woes and all of its angry violent people and all of its blood and slaughter simply amusing and interesting topics to snort and smirk over? Are there truly no stakes?

- Do you believe such passive engagement with the world is capable of delivering any kind of real truth? Well, at least the kind of truth that I can understand. "Objectivity"... Neutrality. Goddamn I hate that bullshit. Feh! Grow up, man. No one is truly neutral. Everything is subjective.

I could have been riveted by this book if it had had the strength to have an actual opinion. This isn't a history book, it is not clinical research or a community needs assessment - it is a personal narrative. Personal Narrative. And so No Opinions = Bullshit. Be real, don't be afraid to have some opinions or to get a little hardcore. To be yourself. To be angry that there are a bunch of fucked-up things going on in the world, all the time, throughout time. I'd much rather have that pissed-off messiness than this determinedly amusing, blandly pleasant, roll over & die softcore truthiness.