At first blush, Pool Bar might be a strange place to interview Jean Baudrillard, maestro of the hyper-real. But hell, Jean suggested it so I agreed. I mean it does sorta make sense. Pool Bar might be the world’s first simulated Dive Bar.
So Bauds and I meet over luke-warm Harbin beers and braved the acrid urine stink. Here’s our little chat. Turns out he thinks I’m just a simulation of a simulation. I sorta think he’s a pretense laden wanker who’s just ripping of Heeter.
NiK:
So hey dude, what’s happening? What’s up? Why the hell are we at Pool Bar?
Baudrillard:
If you have to ask, I’m not gonna tell you. I mean have you read “Fatal Strategies?”
NiK:
No.
Baudrillard:
NiK, It’s time to give up and let the visceral swirl of images swoosh over you! The sublime is here.
NiK:
It smells like a Yak pissed all over the Pool table…
Baudrillard:
Actually Not There is a prime example of the Ecstasy of the pOst-mOdern sublime. You are a Fatal Strategy.
NiK:
What?
Baudrillard:
What? You people are damn simulacrum. A hologram. Just a bunch of flesh & blood Zombie DJs. You don’t play music, you play the image of music making images of itself. Neener. Neener. Neener.
NiK:
What the hell are you talking about?
Baudrillard:
Let me break it down for you slowly. You people play dance music.
Nik:
Right.
Baudrillard:
Dance music was made by DJs. DJs sampled their stuff from like those Northern Soul Collections and like some Amen Break or something. You lot, with your digital & analog synths and your fake 4-on-the-floor…you lot are totally just simulating a DJ.
NiK:
Ergo?
Baudrillard:
Ergo you are simulating a simulation.
NiK:
Deep.
Baudrillard:
Totes.
NiK:
Are we done here?
Baudrillard:
Wouldn’t you like to hear my take on the Carsick Cars? Talk about a coin with no face…
NiK:
Um. I have a date or something.
Baudrillard:
Laters. See you at No Filler on September 15th at Yugongyishan!
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