Minos And The Bouncer

The Last Judgment is now playing every weekend in a club near you. The souls line up, and the Bouncer admits them to the joy of his lords and ladies, or tells them to depart into the outer darkness, where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth. Except that it is by no means certain that the joy to be obtained within the club is actually so much better than the outer darkness; the point is to be chosen, never mind by whom and for what, because then you are deemed to exist.

If the Dread Judge truly selected, as he often pretends, for particular qualities of dress or deportment, then everyone could qualify in time for next weekend, and this would never do. Moreover, in that case the damned could tell themselves that the saints were being admitted only because they were wearing this, that or the other, and could thus feel themselves to be potentially as good as they. Secure people do not pony up the admission fees for phoney self-validation.

For the clubbing industry it is therefore imperative that wailers and gnashers of teeth can never quite figure what Minos has seen in the fortunate few; it cannot occur to them that he is anything less than the Arbiter of Elegance, they cannot allow themselves to suspect that his selection is in fact entirely random, because that would make them merely a bunch of wankers waiting in the rain for a meaningless accolade. In order to give their sufferings some significance, therefore, they are obliged to believe that he has chosen the others because of some real and objective quality that only he can perceive. Their endeavour thus becomes to find favour in his sight. When their turn comes to be chosen, therefore, they do not know exactly how they have acquired this baraka, but acquire it they must have done, and so it is time to spend money in celebration. A lot of money.

Posted on May 11, 2011 at 12:51 by Hugo Grinebiter · Permalink

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