It’s not often one sees sovereignty wrapped in a blanket.
Surely, a Maclaren pram is in this child’s future.
Ministry of Body Image.
Where is the Egyptian Robespierre?
While Mr Assange dines on gourmet empanadas at the posh Ecuadorian Embassy, Chelsea Manning faces a lifetime ration of military issue, baked beans in the brig.
I witnessed a deft robbery at Milano Centrale. Keep your hands on your luggage.
Staten Island and the Bronx are hipster free zones.
50,000 convicts were sent to the North American colonies.
July 4: the day the Americans gave up tea for coca cola.
Dasein on board.
There once was a band called Vomit Launch.
A spymaster says he never traded information for access.
Five Guys is not posh.
Cowboy films without aliens are not good box office.
Walter Benjamin and Ernst Bloch walk into a bar, arguing. Bartender: “You guys need to hash it out.”
Hyperbole is infectious.
The magnificent exultation of disgruntled, government employees.
Heroes don’t go into hiding.
The propaganda value of a celebrity fugitive diminishes over time.
Failure is the new success.
Celebrities are a botoxed, pilated update on saints, sans relics.
Too obvious pursuit of profit is one of those curious disqualifications for an artist. The penniless poet who is discovered to be a genius after his/her miserable death from consumption is too literary to be real.
Uncool things are cool, until they become cool. Then they lose their coolness and one has to look for something else that’s uncool.
Commedia dell’Arte never spread north of the Tyrolean line.
Conservatism and art don’t mix.
To the chagrin of the Republican Party, the President has turned out to be more of a Lannister than a Stark.
The spectres haunting Europe have become spectators.
Social media is the free association of non-producers.
Only broken dreams are true.
The future will remember us as a moldy madeleine.
Object-cathexis with the gun overcomes fear of it.