[News] Sex Sans the City (A Post-Marxist Preview)
news at freedomarchives.org
Fri Jun 27 11:23:08 EDT 2008
SEX SANS THE CITY (A POST-MARXIST PREVIEW)
Many capitalist roaders say the Left is out
of touch with popular culture. Well, I say NYET
to that! Here, for instance, is an episode of
"Sex and the City" that I translated for my
Marxist-Leninist study group, so that we may
better throw off our Tiffany chains.
[Scene I: Chic, Upper West Side restaurant]
SAMANTHA: [Striding in elegantly and sitting
at table where the girls are waiting] Greetings,
comrades! How glad I am that I sexy,
50-year-old blonde girl, being fabulous and
having much sex with men meet you in favorite
haute bourgeois bistro for sex talk. Look at dick
of sultry, ethnic waiter is not fabulous?
MIRANDA: Rummaging impatiently through
briefcase] Waiter dick unimportant for proper
ordering, comrade. I, being caustic, hard-driven
attorney with bright red hair, styled to evoke
Great Mistakes in Hedge Trimming, no have time
for frivolity. Must get back to office to shill for corporate capital
SAMANTHA: Ooh, "shill" sounds sexy, comrade!
MIRANDA: It is, comrade! Today, I defend sexy
Fortune 500 Company owning Indian Point nuclear
power plant making much electricity for city
from selfish, unsexy officials who warn of
nuclear disaster. My logic: Why upset capitalist system?
CHARLOTTE: [Sighing pertly] For myself,
comrades, I token person of dark hair color
esteem the finding of Perfect Monogamous Soul
Mate as most high goal in consumerist free market
society. This is exalted dream for which masses
labor, regardless of increasing work hours, fear
of layoff, dwindling surplus profit, endless war
and possible nuclear disaster. Heedless, heedless masses!
CARRIE: [Flexing highly toned abs, set off to
perfection by jaunty, $5,000 Christian Dior
ensemble resembling clothes of Carmen Miranda
after werewolf attack] Ah, comrades how good it
is to exploit our lives in my column, earning
many thousands of dollars more than other writers
who, unlike me, have college vocabulary and
knowledge of world history! [She signals waiter]
Greetings, comrade bit actor of exotic
descent who is destined to receive five dollars
each time this episode is played in rerun! Please
give us four of your most costly watercress
omelets, removing yolk and other caloric
nutrients. Hurry before more radioactive
groundwater leaches from Indian Point into Hudson River!
CHARLOTTE: Comrade! This is too much food! Is
not anorexia neoliberal pre-condition for true female happiness?
CARRIE: You are mistaken, comrade. We must
order many expensive things regardless of
whether we shall actually consume them so that
our power may grow! Profit motive of late
capitalism dictates terms of feminine value and we must obey.
MIRANDA: Carrie, I am loving of your shoes!
CARRIE: Shoes are foot-warping,
spine-crippling Manolo Blahniks, costing $765!
You see, comrades, glamorous allure of
destructive footwear comes not only from physical
sacrifice to wearer, but also from labor of
anonymous, underpaid peasants who toil in
abusive, outsourced factories. It is suffering of
all classes that creates societal clout of Manolo
Blahnik brand name you can trust!
ALL: [Toasting] Carrie is our leader! Long
live vanguard of post-industrial alienation from means of production!
[SCENE II; Carrie at home. Posed on her bed in
the adolescent contortions of a 12-year-old with
a stamp collection, she types on her sleek Mac
laptop, now available online for under $13,000.00. Her voiceover narration:]
CARRIE: Later that night, I wonder why virile
mogul boyfriend, Mr. Beeg, refuse to commit.
Could this mirror my own sublimation of need for
basic human contact into acquisition of designer commodities?
[Close-up of glowing computer screen, as
Carrie types:] "Commodity fetishism: good or bad
and what if meltdown occur at Indian Point?"
[Suddenly, sirens blare; horrific explosion is heard]
[Scene III: Back at stark ruins of Manhattan
bistro; the stunned, disheveled four are staring,
in bleak, Chekhovian fashion, into a dimming sun
setting over the roiling Hudson.]
MIRANDA: Men are annoying.
CARRIE: Men are peegs.
SAMANTHA: I try lesbian sex. Too much talk.
CARRIE: Gay men better. Make good pets.
CHARLOTTE: I, with Jewish husband, for whom I
convert, have adopted child from faux-Communist
country. Husband is kind; we are happy. Yet we never speak of Palestine.
MIRANDA: Please halt unsexy talk of Middle East, comrade.
SAMANTHA: Say, does anybody know why we are
only four left alive after tragic and totally
unexpected disaster at Indian Point?
CHARLOTTE: Perhaps something about Carrie's shoes?
CARRIE: Correct, comrade! Thanks to healing
power of Manolo Blahniks commodity onto which
we magically project desire to survive we are, for now, protected.
CHARLOTTE: [Clutching stomach] Comrades, I don't feel so good.
CARRIE: You must believe, comrade believe in the brand.
MIRANDA: Must get her to shoe store, quick!
SAMANTHA: Ooh, "store" sounds sexy, comrades
[Holding one another up, they hobble off in search of Fifth Avenue.]
© Susie Day, 2008 suzetski at gmail.com
State Pushes to Close Indian Point:
Indian Point in event of meltdown:
Sex and the City
522 Valencia Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
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