Conversations with Guy Debord (5)

"Debord, did Ann Coulter really kill that guy last year?"

I brushed my snout against the bed frame bottom, the wooden floor slats dark as Brit Hume's bloody lapel.

My climate is enlarged and mandatory -- faint whiff of water bugs and Gaulois smoke!

"Shimmy, every single block in Baghdad represents the hope for a dazzling shortcut to the promised land of total consumption. Baghdad is ceremoniously presented as the decisive entity."

Debord was on his knees, the bunched up bedspread skirt in his right hand. He flicked ash on the floor with his left.

I pushed my spine against the bottom of the bed slats. A dustball tumbled with Guy Debord's stubbly voice.

"In the War on Terror, which is the image of the ruling economy," he said, "the goal is nothing, development everything. The War on Terror aims at nothing other than itself. It is no more than terror developing for itself."