A long time ago, I decided that if I were ever to get a tattoo, I would get a tattoo of an irregular black splotch.
“Say,” people would ask, indicating my tattoo, “what does that represent?”
“What do you mean, what does it represent?”
“You know, what’s it for, what does it symbolize?”
“This? It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Why’d you get a tattoo of a meaningless black splotch, then?”
“Oh, this isn’t a tattoo. It’s cancer.”
(Slightly edited from something I wrote over 20 years ago.)
POSTMODERNISM: THE DRINKING GAME
RULE 1: If anyone, at any time, for any reason, believes in, supports, or likes a person, place, or idea, it’s only because they haven’t uncovered the fundamental contradictions underlying that belief; you are allowed to laugh at them because they are Less Jaded than you.
RULE 1a: If everyone disbelieves in, attacks, or dislikes a person, place, or idea, it’s only because they haven’t uncovered the fundamental contradictions underlying that disbelief; you may support that person, place, or idea, and you are allowed to laugh at the other players because they are Less Perceptive than you.
RULE 2: Never explain the rules.