Ha! I've read Wanton Hussy's column for today, and I know you are here seeking relief from the unmitigated squick factor of my Monday compatriot. You lose! All you'll find here is a look down the barrel of a Sun God under pressure.
See, it's Hell Week down here for good ol' Sun. This week:
Tuesday: Presentation of Business Plan to Venture Capitalists
Wednesday: Tax Final
Thursday: 30 page paper due in International Political Economy
Friday: Spanish Final (pt. 1)
Monday: Spanish Final (pt. 2)
This is, of course, not a new condition, having happened to me several times a year for the last couple of years (though the particulars differed), and I've noticed something that I find rather annoying. No matter how much work you have to do, how much effort is required to surmount the obstacles in front of you, when you are finished, you never get the full amount of pleasure in being done that you promise yourself while still on the "Oh Shit" side of them. Once you are done, you spend a little time being done, but then you forget about how sucky things no longer are and start looking forward again.
I notice this because I am presently in a position of "God DAMN I will be glad when this is over", but of course I have realized by now that I won't be. At least, not as glad as I presently feel I should be. Sure, after each successful completion (and I always successfully complete), there's a momentary joy, but it doesn't seem to counterweigh the worry that occurs before the event.
The exception to this is, of course, when you complete something that is more product-based, like a house or a poem or a lego castle. Then you get to have that enjoyment whenever you interact with the thing. Maybe I should have been an architect.
Not that my intention here it to depress you. Although, knowing you, I almost certainly have done quite the opposite. I can see you sitting there crowing "Sucks to be You!" and wallowing in schadenfreude. Admit it. I hate you.
Anyways, I should get back to work, but not before I take a moment to issue a few rebuttals. Sometimes I long for the equinamity of Tolkien, who had the following to say about the sometimes harsh criticism his work received: "Some who have read the book, or at any rate have reviewed it, have found it boring, absurd, or contemptible; and I have no cause to complain, since I have similar opinions of their works, or of the kinds of writing that they evidently prefer." Sadly, I lack his tact. So let me issue a blanket "You're wrong!!" first, and then get to the particulars.
I don't care if you want to make up some permissive definition of art. Fine, go ahead. The moon is art, cheese is art, science is art. Whee. What I was ranting about, obviously ineffectively, is the fact that just because it is art (according to your lax, "everything goes" definition) does not mean it is worthy of accolade. I still think that art involves a value judgement. But, mea culpa, I forgot to clarify things by putting the word "Fine" in front of the word "Art" whenever I capitalized it. You can have your vacuum cleaners under plexiglass. I'll stick to the stuff that someone sweated for.
Also, Mad Science Watch is a great idea, and the mere fact that previous Mad Scientists managed to also benefit humanity does not mean that we should just ignore them. Hitler also benefitted humanity by the invention of things like rocketry and anti-lock brakes, but frankly I'd say he bore keeping an eye on, wouldn't you? Also, just because the CIA is watching someone doesn't mean they are planning to assassinate them, does it? Okay, bad example. But you get the idea.
I don't know what you people think you are up to, anyways. I give you a soapbox, and you think that "hey, Sun's a creampuff, he won't care if I vigorously rebut his assertations". Well, just watch it. I'm on a very short fuse right now, and if you think that I won't whip out my huge editorial privilege and beat you about the Times New Roman with it, well you have another think coming and another thing, please stop using Word or whatever puts those little equal signs at the end of EVERY SINGLE LINE so that I have to edit each file BY HAND to remove them and it's getting to the point where I see them in my sleep in amongst the god damned business plan for which I still have to do the charts and it's due tomorrow. Tomorrow! So knock it off. Ungrateful bastards.
Um. The End.
(Sun Ra has been under a lot of pressure recently, but when I asked him to rewrite the column he just sent me twenty pages of the words "Fuck You" in different colors and fonts. So I wouldn't take anything he says too seriously. I'm sure he'll be better next week. - Ed.)
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