Date: Mon, 23 Nov 1998 03:11:01 -0500 (EST)
From: Michael Dean Benton <benton-AT-BGNet.bgsu.edu>
To: mbenton723-AT-aol.com
Subject: Fuck the Situationists (fwd)




---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1998 21:06:53 -0800 (PST)
From: A Spectacle <situationist-AT-lists.nothingness.org>
To: situationist-AT-lists.nothingness.org
Subject: Fuck the Situationists


I propose a complete overhaul of the situationist milleu

Their ideas are but mindcandy for the masses 

Situationists need jackets with Guy DeBord blowing his brains out in the
arms of a banker

All here could wear and closely identify

In the beginning there was a clique of lazy Parisian artists who thought
they were brilliant artists and called theselves 'lettrists' to
verbalize
their gimmick with letters etcetera etcetera.  One of them, Guy Ernest
DeBord, branched off and formed the situationists because he knew the
lettrist gimmick to be unmarkateble.
For, as all true capitalists know, revolution gets attention much
quicker than art.  And
the lettrists would go down as having little significance, if any, in
the
places that knew what they were talking about.

Debord played his cards right.

It was like a football game between the situationist and their
trans-national hipper-than-thou scene, but the situationists had the
advantage of
being somewhat international, as well as snobbish enough to look down at
world and hold-out from cracking-up.  So when the lettrists dissolved
for good, the
situationists capitalized on them further by going again to the
cemetary and
pretending it was, say, more conducive to solitude and necrophilia
than the
cafes of Montparnasse.  They pretentiously called this aimless walking
around 'psychogeography', a
lettrist term from an illiterate who somehow had picked up some Greek
in a soupkitchen. . .

Guy DeBord had his plot laid out from the start: to manufacture
revolution
and to profit from it.  In doing so, he would come to find that there
was
absolutely no point in anything, that life was entirely absurd, that
people
were apt to believe anything thrown at them if it was put right.  

But he only succeeded at manufacturing 'revolution'

Raoul Vaneigam, a sidekick of Debords, was only there for party aspect
of
the whole ordeal.  This, we can praise him for.  And we are glad he
did not
show up at some silly event in 1968 that, really, was no biggie
compared to
the world wars of this century.  

No. Raoul went to the seaside and enjoyed himself.  Had a few laughs. 
Drank beaujolais.   Maybe even got fucked arseways by a sultry Italian
prince

Raoul was a just normal, ordinary type of guy. . .

DeBord took himself so seriously that people of the gullible artistic
believed him to be on to something with universal implications and
therefore did worship him like fanatics.  

These people believe that there is a master critique and it is Debord's 


These people are nothing but idiots


Who can believe a sorry sack of sorry shit like Debord?

Why Lettrism even?  It deserves no more poetry


It's only revolution to dummies. . . 



----London Aire, the insurance business, head-screwed-on-right


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