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April 4, 2012

Wasn’t it the French poet Baudelaire who set out, some years ago, to shock the bourgeoisie?

God knows they need more, not less, shocking these days.

If you aren’t a teenager bored out of his skull by life in the suburbs, you may be a Baby Boomer, like me, who lives amid the bourgeoisie — who is a proper burgher — and feels trapped by his comfortable trappings.

Yes, we desire our comforts, our creature comforts, above all else. And when we’re not comfortable, in our La-Z-Boys, our received opinions, we squirm.

So it’s about time we learn to squirm — and get some comfort out of it!

hole in one

Alas, some sick sad teen villains have beat me to the mierde punch.

I tried out this one on some friends recently, some golfing friends no less. What if you had to take a crap while you were golfing, or simply walking through a golf course, and instead of running off to the rough or into the woods you crapped into the nearest cup? Then along comes the next golfer and when he taps in his birdie putt, bends over to retrieve the sacred object and finds –mierde! Oh how disgusting! How revolting! How vandalistic and obscene!

(I see, on doing a bit of Google research, that a group of juvenile-delinquent, bored-out-of-their-skull, white-boy suburbanites has beat me to the deed itself and publicized it on YouTube, where else? Watch the clip and tell me, do you think they are aesthetes?)

Yes, my friends, one of the dangers of golfing in this time and place, surrounded as we are by the forces of darkness, the snickerings of ennui and diabolical indifference, is such vile tricks! Oh we must gate our communities to be sure. Keep out the riffraff. Keep out contamination.

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