Nabokov: “Poshlust,” or in a better transliteration poshlost, has many nuances, and evidently I have not described them clearly enough in my little book on Gogol, if you think one can ask anybody if he is tempted by poshlost. Corny trash, vulgar clichés, Philistinism in all its phases, imitations of imitations, bogus profundities, crude, moronic, and dishonest pseudo-literature—these are obvious examples. Now, if we want to pin down poshlost in contemporary writing, we must look for it in Freudian symbolism, moth-eaten mythologies, social comment, humanistic messages, political allegories, overconcern with class or race, and the journalistic generalities we all know.
Poshlost speaks in such concepts as “America is no better than Russia” or “We all share in Germany’s guilt.” The flowers of poshlost bloom in such phrases and terms as “the moment of truth,” “charisma,” “existential” (used seriously), “dialogue” (as applied to political talks between nations), and “vocabulary” (as applied to a dauber). Listing in one breath Auschwitz, Hiroshima, and Vietnam is seditious poshlost.
First we lost Kurt. Then Tupac. And now we’ve lost Tumblr. I was there man, I saw it all. It was a touchstone for our generation. A fantasy of decadence that will never come our way again.
(I completely missed the boat on getting into the line-up for the comic itself so I’m working on my favourite image from Akira Club.)
It’s like the Vangelis Blade Runner soundtrack and Daft Punk had a baby.
Britain is a country haunted by its past. It is possessed by the memory of a golden age – a time long ago when this country was the most powerful on Earth. This is a film about what happens when politicians summon up that romantic vision. For a moment, it gives them immense power. But then they discover they have invoked forces they cannot control. The price they pay is to become imprisoned by their dream.
My name is EARL SWEATSHIRT