Foucault, a conversation
Me: Ugh. I hate reading Foucault.
The Husband: You mean Fuck-allt.
Me: Right. Fuckallt.
The Husband: And you know what his mom was called? Mother Fuckallt!
2 Responses to “Foucault, a conversation”
Me: Ugh. I hate reading Foucault.
The Husband: You mean Fuck-allt.
Me: Right. Fuckallt.
The Husband: And you know what his mom was called? Mother Fuckallt!
HA! I will never look at Foucault the same way again. I don’t think I hate him, though. After reading someone like A HREF=”http://disasterkitchen.blogspot.com/2008/02/work.html” REL=”nofollow”Ricoeur/A, Foucault actually seems blessedly coherent and intelligible.
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Ugh. I am sorry. Sort of like reading Derrida…which I think of as Derridaritos (the anti-corn chip).
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