Ooooooh la la . . .

"THE SPECTACLE ERASES the dividing line between self and world, in that the self, under seige by the presence and absence of the world, is eventually overwhelmed; it likewise erases the dividing line between true and false, repressing all directly lived truth beneath the real presence of the falsehood maintained by the organization of appearances. The individual, though condemned to the passive acceptance of an alien everyday reality, is thus driven into a form of madness in which, by resorting to magical devices, he entertains the illusion that he is reacting to his fate. The recognition and consumption of commodities are at the core of this pseudo-response to a communication to which no response is possible.The need to imitate that the consumer experiences is indeed a truly infantile need, one determined by every aspect of his fundamental dispossession. In terms used by Gabel to describe quite another level of pathology, "the abnormal need for representation here compensates for a torturing feeling of being at the margin of existence."

The Society of the Spectacle
--Guy Debord
translation 1994, Donald Nicholson-Smith

THE SPECTACLE DRAWS eagerly upon mankind's striving gristmill, priming populations great and small. It appears consent is abstractly universal, save an everpresent exploding cluster of erudite malcontents voicing vague desire while donning the vogue du revolutionaire. Partially formed possibilities and other shallow vacancies prey upon our choreographed races overwhelming any rag glories, inner grace or spit we can muster, because it no longer matters whether we are truly or falsely accused. Our memories of a thousand years are not loaded ineffectually short nor as ambivalent as many contend. We've heard you. But we've become mute to the cause. As a result we insist upon finding this world of appearances mathematically as pure as its inverse, spinning around any strategical spectrum you dare, making the sum of ONE the whole of infinity, and nothing less than autonomous negation to that madness of zero reality you've prophesied as . . .