The Snark had started. As usual, the face of Jeff Goldstein, the Enemy of the People, had flashed on to the screen. There were hisses here and there among the audience. Goldstein was the renegade and backslider who once, long ago (how long ago nobody quite remembered), had been one of their own, a member of the Modern Language Association with a solid vita and faculty parking priveleges, almost on a level with Stanley Fish himself, and then had engaged in counter-revolutionary blogging activities, had been condemned to sabbatical and had mysteriously escaped and become a stay-at-home dad.
The programmes of the Two Minutes Snark varied from day to day, but there was none in which Goldstein was not the principal figure. He was the primal traitor, the earliest defiler of the Faculty's purity, a paste eater. All subsequent crimes against the Faculty, all treacheries, acts of sabotage, heresies, deviations, sprang directly out of his blog posts. Somewhere he was still alive, fixing his disgusting child a snack of Cheddar Goldfish and hatching his online conspiracies: perhaps somewhere beyond the campus, under the protection of his neocon paymasters, perhaps even - so it was occasionally rumoured - in Arvada or Cherry Creek, or even some hiding-place in Boulder itself.
Read the rest...
No comments:
Post a Comment