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What a guilty pleasure this is to gather in awe and mockery of this poseur's psychotic rantings... not unlike watching a train wreck, and enjoying the commentary thereon... how awesome was that, when the flaming caboose hit the playground full of kindergarners! Or perhaps like the decadent French who would visit insane asylums because they liked to watch. If our fate for this decadence is indeed the guillotine, that will have two upsides... one, our disembodied heads will no longer be able to read Paglia, and two, our headless bodies will still have more common sense than she does. Now, back to four long weeks of the existential void...