OBS! Denne bloggposten er egentlig bare til for å få deg som leser til å lese mer av David Foster Wallace. OBS!
Siden JohnMcCain gikk bort her om dagen, kan det passe å hente ut litt stoff fra en fantastisk tekst av David Forster Wallace kalt “The Weasel, Twelve Monkeys and the Shrub”. Teksten sto publisert i Rolling Stone Magazine 13. april 2000.
Her følger Wallace med på valgkampbussen til John McCain i en uke og skriver – på sin måte – om hva som skjer.
Med på bussen er også tolv journalister. David Foster Wallace kaller dem The Twelve Monkeys. I tillegg finner vi John McCains rådgiver, Mike Murphy.
I en passiar i (den laaaaaaaaaaange) teksten (DFW skrev aldri kort, han gikk heller ikke av veien for noen parenteser her og der. Eller fotnoter…) finner vi en intervjusekvens mellom Mike Murphy og The Twelve Monkeys. Den går slik:
MONKEY: If, say, you win here in South Carolina, what do you do then?
MURPHY: Fly to Michigan that night.
MONKEY: And what if hypothetically you, say, lose here in South Carolina?
MURPHY: Fly to Michigan that night win or lose.
MONKEY: Can you perhaps explain why?
MURPHY: ‘Cause the plane’s already paid for.
MONKEY: I think he means: can you explain why specifically Michigan?
MURPHY: ‘Cause it’s the next primary.
MONKEY: I think what we’re trying to get you to elaborate on if you will, Mike, is: What will your goal be in Michigan?
MURPHY: To get a whole lot of votes. That’s part of our secret strategy for winning the nomination.
Sånn kan det være å intervjue litt vrange folk. Det var bare det. Les David Foster Wallace. Så mye du kan.
PS. Hvis du leser Wallace, må du belage deg på setninger som denne:
There’s a nice opportunity here for cynicism about the media’s idea of “fighting words” as the CNN crew FFs through the speech, Jim McManus eating his fifth Krispy Kreme of the day and awaiting Mark A.’s signal, Jonathan Karl polishing his glasses on his tie, Mark A. leaning forward with his eyes closed in aural concentration; and just behind Mark’s massive shoulder, at the rear edge of the front starboard couch, is NBC camera tech Jim C., who has a bad case of the Campaign Flu, pouring more blood-red tincture of elderberry into a bottle of water, his expression carefully stoic because the elderberry remedy’s been provided by his wife, who happens to be the NBC crew’s field producer and is right across the aisle on the port couch watching him closely to see that he drinks it, and it’ll be fun to hear Jim C. crack wise about the elderberry later when she’s not around.
The national voting audience is the great huge outer box, then the SC-electorate audience, mediated respectively by the inner layers of national and local press, just inside which lie the insulating boxes of McCain’s staff’s High Command who plan and stage events and spin stuff for the layers of press to interpret for the layers of audience, and the Press Liaisons who shepherd the pencils and heads and mediate their access to the High Command and control which media get rotated onto the ST Express (which is itself a box in motion) and then decide (the Liaisons do) which of these chosen media then get to move all the way into the extreme rear’s salon to interface with McCain himself, who is the campaign’s narrator and narrative at once, a candidate whose biggest draw of course is that he’s an anticandidate, someone who’s open and accessible and “thinks outside the box,” but who is in fact the campaign’s Chinese boxes’ central and inscrutable core box, and whose own intracranial thoughts on all these boxes and layers and lenses and on whether this new kind of enclosure is anything like Hoa Lo’s dark box are pretty much anyone in the media’s guess, since all he’ll talk about is politics.
Jeg anbefaler ingen å skrive sånn…