This is the age of the slogan, the soundbite, the snappy phrase in place of considered argument. Thought is dying; reason’s gone critical. In bookshops and magazine racks we’re told only what we want to hear: we’re told it in neat, bullet-pointed affirmations of our own worth.

No more. This is the fightback. The resuscitation. This is the slogan as explainer of the world. One a day for a year. Three hundred and sixty five phrases, soundbites and bullet points with which to make sense of the way things are now and point to how things could be tomorrow. Read them and weep.


Friday

2. They fuck you up, your mum and dad

Which is another way of saying “blame your parents”. For everything. (But give them credit for nothing.) Have you seen any daytime TV? It turns out that nothing is your fault! All your crimes, all your faults, all your shortcomings as a human being, all your lack of judgement, lack of taste, lack of ambition, drive, purpose and meaning... it’s because of your parents. They didn’t love you enough, somehow. They didn’t encourage you, give you the attention you deserved. Or they smoked. Or argued. Or worked too hard. Or didn’t work at all. They sent you to the local crap comprehensive where you slipped into unnoticed mediocrity... or they packed you off to a school that pushed you too hard, that expected too much, that left you shorn of any self-confidence. Whatever’s wrong with you, it’s because of them. None of it is your fault. You don’t need to take responsibility for your failings. This is the great get-out clause of our age.
Posted by at