I was just about to bust out a line. No really. I may not be the newest, vocally-endowed, politically incorrect and ideologically defective rapper to have come up through the corporate hierarchies, but. I can still rhyme into coexistence just about every anomaly and factual impossibility on planet Mariah.
No I’m not Foucault, I’m not Habermas and I’m certainly no Hansen. Oh, as a side note, and forgive me if I digress here, I would never actually be tempted to even consider approximating the lack-of-academic feasibility that is Rudolf-The-Raindeer-Hansen. I refrain from providing convincing arguments to substitute as evidence. Simply put, it’s not needed.
It’s a psychological battle with my internal hegemons. I want to rupture away from the institution that gave birth to my faculties, my capacities and my alternative way of procrastinating on a Saturday night, namely, the “art of criticizing.” So I may not be “treaty” quality. Frankly, I abdicated from this sophism and insidious obnoxiousness in grade seven. And for a reason. Apparently there are still a few of us left, who perpetuate this obsession by catering to bigotry, demagoguery and blow-up-doll-pompousness. Give me a break. Cut the cat some slack.
Maybe I should retreat to the Dutch countryside where I can embark on a new self-aggrandzing strategy of engineering-perfection: Chinese capitalism as it applies to Irish belligerency – a discussion between the possible and the impossible. I think that once I finally incarcerate “empirical,” I will be able to find a publisher who will (albeit under duress) offer me just enough real-estate so that I can finally, abruptly and absolutely (a la one stroke of the pen), end pessimism.
The Ivory towers are no longer white and pure and ripe with supple and ingenious solutions to the problems of abstract and tyrannical congeniality.
And, just as I was ready to blow you away with my apotheosis, I’m afraid I must……………………………………………………………………………………….*
*Actually, I might as well. I kept you waiting long enough. IF you have been unable to INFER, from the aforementioned, that I have just about had ENOUGH of UofT’s “lack thereof,” then let me explicitly offer you a more direct account of my current state of imperfect-ness: the end of this academic struggle is finally in sight. Oh yeah. It feels good. It feels VERY good.