Sometimes something that is said stays with us. No matter how idiotic; it just sticks. Which should I suppose be heartening given the day-job – at least the mad-cow isn’t kicking in yet. And so it’s nothing to write-up as a paper. Unless of course you’re on a roll or badly need a publication quota; Altered constructions of self and semiotic misunderestimations in the Western LGB tradition. That should sell.

But there can be a kind of mongrel-pup-follows-you-home insistence in words.  Which I suppose is why they can niggle.

Twice lately in ‘conversations’ about the future of our small enterprise by the square lake, a co-worker (popinjay-type, good on the recognition of Important People around campus, and an accomplished forelock tugger) has muttered darkly that there are too many ‘precious people’ about the place. This it would seem to mean too many who don’t share The Vision.

First time I put it down to the best they could come up with in terms of an acerbic barb intended simply to annoy on a personal level.  Second time I began to wonder whether there may be a modicum of ontological accuracy to it – the sleeveen sentiment is, after all, very much in keeping with emerging practices in these twisted times.  With all the Omertà, insiders inside cabals, and the not letting Marino know what we’re up to.  Or that Hibernia crowd; Vesi at best…  (I wonder could we buy them out?)

However, on mature reflection I’ve come to the opinion that it is all a bit like young love among the New Horizons freshers or the true importance of QS World University Rankings; nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

Of course smoke can provide excellent cover and concealment while you assemble your lines. And shattered mirrors mean shards to fashion into rudimentary weapons.

Now if only we had some music… a marching band perhaps, with a gallant JP Sousa type out front and the forelock tugger and co-everythings in behind.  That should frighten the buggers………..

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