<<< Oct 25, 2002 >>>

The wall clock showed two-thirty. Chip paused and waited for the bell to ring and the semester to end. "Excuse me," Melissa said, "but that is such bullshit." "What is bullshit?" Chip said. "This whole class," she said. "It's just bullshit every week.

It's one critic after another wringing their hands about the state of criticism. Nobody can ever quite say what's wrong exactly. But they all know it's evil. They all know 'corporate' is a dirty word. And if somebody's having fun or getting rich -- disgusting! Evil! And it's always the death of this and the death of that. And people who think they're free aren't 'really' free. And people who think they're happy aren't 'really' happy. And it's impossible to radically critique society anymore, although what's so radically wrong with society that we need such a radical critique, nobody can say exactly. It is so typical and perfect that you hate those ads!" she said to Chip as, through Wroth Hall, bells finally rang. -- Jonathan Franzen, The Corrections, 2001

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