Tuesday, 18 November 2008

'Dated' is perhaps the lamest thing you can say about a book, movie, painting, song or poem. Of course it's dated; everything's dated, everything's a product of its time. Calling something dated only calls attention to how embedded you are in the matrix of your own non-privileged point in space-time; it only shows you up for the dated relic of your own time that you are.

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