I display my famous compassion for dead people.

Jacques Derrida died last week. There was a brief period when I thought it quite possible that this nihilistic jackass had done serious damage to modern culture; now thinking of him just provokes a brief, instinctive snort of derision. It's just too bad he didn't have the decency to get taken out in a suitably post-modernist manner, like Lacan getting creamed by a laundry truck.

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