I’m not a particularly naive person. But I insist on holding on to some of my fantasies. One of them was, WAS, that the graffiti artist known as Bankski would not have his “real” identity disclosed. But the day has come, and Time Magazine, as expected, is the harbinger of doom.
I think I flatter this Gunninghamski to think that the long-maintained, but destined to fail pretense of anonymity was actually a work of art itself, designed to show us who we are.
We are people who want to know. We are people who seek to destroy mysteries. We are Money Talk. We are Consumers. We are Pundits.
Bankski was a dream I had of myself. Bankski was a dream I had of you, and your kids, and their kids.
It doesn’t feel good to write this, because today I have new reason to fear you, and your sarcasm, and your jaded view of the world. And because I feel relieved and excited to read more about Robin Gunningham I know that I am you, and I am sarcastic and jaded, and all that beauty in the world has reason to fear me, because I am built to destroy it.
The next few weeks are sure to produce a news cycle in which ever more idiotic pundits rheuminate on The Meaning of This. This is just one of those.