In a 1968 interview, Marcel Duchamp told Joan Bakewell that art no longer had the capacity to shock the public. Today shock is imposed on art (and all visual images), from the outside, by the professional outragetariat, thereby reducing sublime and beautiful aesthetic experiences to feelings and emotions and short-circuiting the aestheticization of life.
Dragons over King’s Landing. High Sparrow on fire. Sansa dead. Let the Game begin.
Fanfic: Carrie and Quinn foil a plot to kidnap Hodor.
Voir dire is one of the scariest things one can experience as an American citizen. One would never want to be judged by a jury made up of such peers.
One cheer for gentrification: coffeehouses and grog shops were the springboards of English greatness.
NY Republican Primary: People whose social status has been falling for decades live vicariously through the towering ego of Mr Trump. His campaign is basically following the format of reality TV. He should do well in places like Long Island, Staten Island, Buffalo, and Scores (his old haunt).
Americans have always had an inferiority complex vis-a-via the British, considering the latter to be the epitome of civilization while the former have never shed their rustic manners and nouveau riche disposition. It is no wonder that the British accent is perceived to bring class and gravitas to the products of the American culture industry. Even when the accent is repressed, filtered through the lingo of the urban streets (Elba and West in The Wire), infused with brooding biker menace (Hunnam in Sons of Anarchy), or flattened into a monotone military cadence (Lewis in Homeland), the chance that it might “pop out” at any moment titillates the average American viewer. Even a fake British accent suffices: Peter Dinklage’s (Game of Thrones) career has skyrocketed largely because Americans believe he is a British actor.