In America, Nostalgia For Things Is Apt

A Determined Soul Will Do More With A Rusty Monkey Wrench Than A Loafer Will Accomplish With All The Tools In A Machine Shop.

The World's Fair Audience Tended To Think Of The Machine As Unqualifiedly Good, Strong, Stupid And Obedient. They Thought Of It As A Giant Slave, An Untiring Steel Negro, Controlled By Reason In A World Of Infinite Resources.

One Gets Tired Of The Role Critics Are Supposed To Have In This Culture: It's Like Being The Piano Player In A Whorehouse; You Don't Have Any Control Over The Action Going On Upstairs.

What Does One Prefer? An Art That Struggles To Change The Social Contract, But Fails? Or One That Seeks To Please And Amuse, And Succeeds?

We Want To Create A Sort Of Linguistic Lourdes, Where Evil And Misfortune Are Dispelled By A Dip In The Waters Of Euphemism