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Pop Culture References Quotes

Browse 11 quotes about Pop Culture References.

Pop Culture References Quotes

“Chaos Cocktail by Stewart Stafford Herky-jerky's hanky-panky, Wakey-wakey, eggs n' bakey! Cosmic Mercury's retrograde trick, Nilsson's Brandy Alexander kick. John heard Bermuda's jingle-jangle, Storm surge in an Exorcist Triangle! Sea shanties upending Behan's hive, All stout hornets jigged and jived. Yoko's "Oh, no!" on firmer ground, Her ageing mariner didn't drown, Lonely Ringo plays bingo bongo, Paul, mugged down near the Congo. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“The lesson to be drawn from X's fatal fall after leaving a moronic show: only go to shows where you would not mind dying immediately after seeing them. One cannot reasonably trust in the will, that 'rational' strategy that works only one time in ten. One has, rather, to clear the decks around a decision, leave it hanging, then let oneself slide into it, as though being sucked in, with no thought for causes and effects. To be willed by the decision itself; in a sense, to give in to it. The decision then becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“There is certainly some interplay between body and mind. The weaker the body, the more apparent the organic wretchedness or obsolescence of that machine, the freer and the more adventurous one's thinking becomes. It too partakes of that sort of timeless youth which has nothing whatever to do with being in the prime of life. Thinking lives on neither health nor vitality, but on lucidity and pride, and the decaying of the body stimulates that lucidity and that pride. There is nothing worse than this obligation to research, to seek out references and documentation that has taken up residence in the realm of thought and which is the mental and obsessional equivalent of hygiene. In the 'intellectual field', as it is so aptly called, one has to plough the furrow of the concept. It is true that we no longer have a culture of leisure, in which thought and writing were violent and pleasurable. And our leisure now is no more than the charnel-house where dead time is born.”

“Truth be told, the reality show itself quickly degenerated into a televisual soap opera that was not that different than old variety shows made for large audiences. And its audience was amplified at the usual rate of competing media, which leads to the self- propagation of the show via a prophetic method: self-fulfilling prophecy. In the end, the ratings for the show play part of the spiral and return cycle of the advertising flame. But all of this is of little interest. It is only the original idea which has any value: submitting a group to a sensory deprivation experiment ( Which in other times was a form of calculated torture. But are we not in the middle of exploring all the historical forms of torture, served in homeopathic doses, under the guise of mass culture or avant-garde art? This is precisely one of the principle themes of contemporary art.), in order to record the behavior of human molecules within a vacuum - and no doubt with the design of watching them tear each other apart in the artificial promiscuity. We have not yet reached this point, but this existential micro-situation functions as a universal metaphor for the modern being, holed up in his personal loft, which is no longer his physical or mental universe. It is his digital and tactile universe, of Turing’s “spectral body”, of the digital man, captured within the labyrinth of the networks, of man turned into his own (white) mouse.”

“Seu trabalho, de que pessoalmente gostava bastante, consistia em programar simulacros do serviço de inteligência do governo Cheyenne, elaborar os intermináveis programas de propaganda, promovendo a desordem no círculo dos Estados Comunistas que circundavam os Estados Unidos. Interiormente, acreditava profundamente em seu trabalho, mas racionalmente não podia qualificá-lo como um ofício nobre ou muito bem pago; os programas por ele elaborados eram no mínimo infantis, espúrios e tendenciosos. O interesse principal ficava por conta de garotos de escola, tanto dos Estados Unidos quanto dos Estados Comunistas vizinhos, além dos contingentes numerosos de adultos de base educacional inferior. Na verdade, ele era um medíocre. O que Mary evidenciara várias e várias vezes. Medíocre ou não, continuava em seu emprego, embora outros lhe tivessem sido oferecidos durante os seis anos de casamento. Possivelmente porque apreciava ouvir suas próprias palavras pronunciadas pelos simulacros, imitações do homem. Talvez por sentir que a causa em si era fundamental: os Estados Unidos postaram-se na defensiva, política e economicamente, e tinham de proteger-se. Necessitavam de pessoas que trabalhassem para o governo ganhando salários reconhecidamente baixos, em funções desprovidas de qualidades de heroísmo ou projeção. Alguém devia programar os simulacros para a propaganda, os quais eram espalhados em todo o mundo, com o objetivo de realizar o trabalho de representantes das Autoridades de Inteligência Computadorizada, agitando, convencendo, induzindo. Mas…”

“Para Mary, o problema era claro: ali estava uma possibilidade de trabalho, a qual devia ser aproveitada sem hesitação; Feld pagava bem e a atividade televisiva proporcionaria enorme prestígio; todas as semanas, no final do programa de Coelho Hentman, o nome de Chuck, como um dos escritores, surgiria na tela, para todo o mundo não-comuna. Mary sentiria orgulho, e aí residia o fator-chave: o trabalho do marido seria notavelmente criativo. E para Mary, a criatividade era o abre-te-sésamo da vida; o trabalho para a CIA, programando simulacros para propaganda que tagarelavam mensagens para africanos, latino-americanos e asiáticos incultos, não dava asas à criatividade; as mensagens costumavam ser as mesmas e, de qualquer maneira, a CIA era dona de má reputação nos círculos liberais, vanguardistas e sofisticados frequentados por Mary.”

“Soiree in Rome. The women are more attractive than the men - they always are. My first impression is that all the men are ugly (they are producers and film directors) and that all the women are beautiful (they are actresses). On a second view: the men are ugly, but they have character; all the women have something erotic about them, but nothing remarkable - a purely macho society, the world of showbiz. The big scene with the male lead is played out in all its grandeur, from one palazzo to the next in the Roman night. The most beautiful actress I know is marrying a rich director, author of 97 screenplays. This is the rule among the showbiz crowd. As usual I feel alienation from all the men there and solidarity with all the women, whom the men pretend to scorn in order to please them, but to whom they are basically indifferent. It must be nice to live in bodies so beautiful, so ingenuous, and allow the men to dominate you with all their ugliness, wealth and pretensions. It must be marvellous to be a woman. Ultimately, it is this which is fascinating: woman is unimaginable. The more beautiful she is, the more unimaginable.”

“Back in North Carolina, the small office in the English Department I shared with another graduate student for our teaching assignments looked like a decorator's version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, one where Jekyll loved Stranger Things, Funko Pops, and artistically desaturated wedding photos, and Hyde loved death row cinder block walls.”

“Velizy. All those shepherds in the Pyrenees who are being fitted out with fibre optics, radio relay stations and cable TV. Obviously the stakes are pretty high! And not just in social terms. Did these people think they were already living in society, with their neighbours, their animals, their stories? What a scandalously underdeveloped condition they were in, what a monstrous deprivation of all the blessings of information, what barbaric solitude they were kept in, with no possibility of expressing themselves, or anything. We used to leave them in peace. If they were called on, it was to get them to come and die in the towns, in the factories or in a war. Why have we suddenly developed a need for them, when they have no need of anything? What do we want them to serve as witnesses of? Because we'll force them to if we have to: the new terror has arrived, not the terror of 1984, but that of the twenty-first century. The new negritude has arrived, the new servitude. There is already a roll-call of the martyrs of information. The Bretons whose TV pictures are restored as soon as possible after the relay stations have been blown up . . . Velizy . . . in the Pyrenees. The new guinea pigs. The new hostages. Crucified on the altar of information, pilloried at their consoles. Buried alive under information. All this to make them admit the inexpressible service that is being done to them, to extort from them a confession of their sociality, of their 'normal' condition as associated anthropoids. Socialism is destroying the position of the intellectual. Unlearn what they say. Either they don't believe in it themselves or the violent effort they make to believe in it is disagreeable.”

“Let us not be deceived about the cool forms, forms indifferent to themselves, which this fetishism can assume in Warhol. Behind this machinic snobbery, what is really going on is a rise and rise of objects, images, signs and simulacra, as well as a rise and rise of values, the finest example of which is the art market itself. We are a long way from the alienation of price, which is still a real measure of things. We are in the ecstasy of value, which explodes the notion of market and simultaneously destroys the art work as such. Warhol is naturally party to this extermination of the real by the image, and to such an overdoing of the image as to put an end to all aesthetic value. Warhol reintroduces nothingness into the heart of the image. In this sense, we cannot say he is not a great artist: fortunately for him, he is not an artist at all. The point of his work is a challenge to the very notion of art and aesthetics.”