Regarding the thread below, what can one say, but National Review trolls are really, really funny: read it to learn why stuffing is pretentious, why Jonah Goldberg is "more influential" than James Joyce, and why the word "noob" is elitest but "fuck" is not (actually, that one is not explained, but asserted. No matter). But they don't know the half of it. After all:
No man, said the Nolan, can be a lover of the true or the good unless he abhors the multitude; and the artist, though he may employ the crowd, is very careful to isolate himself. This radical principle of artistic economy applies specially to a time of crisis, and today when the highest form of art has been just preserved by desperate sacrifices, it is strange to see the artist making terms with the rabblement.
Or, even more aptly:
If an artist courts the favour of the multitude he cannot escape the contagion of its fetichism and deliberate self-deception, and if he joins in a popular movement he does so at his own risk. Therefore, the Irish Literary Theatre by its surrender to the TROLLS has cut itself adrift from the line of advancement. (emphasis mine --ha!)
Hee hee. When we get back from our holiday trip to the folks I'll talk more about wingnuttia's obsession with "intellectuals," a ripe field for exploration. For now, feel free to take a trip down into the menagerie and gaze in wonder at these exhibits.
They're awful touchy & insecure, though, so have a care for your fingers.