In her series of self-portraits set in the New Mexican desert, Laura Aguilar is at once part of the American land, and the viewer’s eye, and apart from them: https://t.co/65RikwtwR3 pic.twitter.com/nsuonvFR4d

— The New Yorker (@NewYorker) November 30, 2017

From the Twatter replies: “not my proudest fap”. 😂

The most absurd aspect of this story is the self-seriousness with which the New Yorker reports on this obvious cry for validation from a morbidly obese señorita as if this is legitimate art rather than the adipose droppings of a shapeless blob. The Fuggernaut won’t stop on its own, it has to be stopped.

We’re not approaching a Singularity. We’re approaching a Nihilarity: Nihilism + Hilarity. I can’t think of a better term to describe late stage America regressing from responsible adulthood to a psychotic solipsistic juvenilism.

***

A big reason the New Yorker lauds garbage like this is because it knows its (((readers))) secretly thrill to voyeuristically feeling superior to their lessers. They signal egalitarianism while enjoying the rewards of human hierarchy. It’s the circus side show updated for a postmodern urban clerisy.