By Stuart Mitchner
While England endeavors to cure the potato-rot, will not any[one] endeavor to cure the brain-rot, which prevails so much more widely and fatally?
—Henry David Thoreau,
from Walden (1854)
The epigraph comes by way of the first Arts page in Monday’s New York Times. At least once or twice every year, the Newspaper of Record throws out a line that hooks me. Picture a Dr. Seuss-style fisherman, perhaps the Cat in the Hat, dandling a brain-rot lure as a Dr. Seuss fish leaps out of the water, grinning idiotically while I’m thinking “This is not how I meant to begin a December 4 column on Franz Kafka; no, this is not what I meant to do, not at all, not at all.”
Probably Kafka would love it. As would Frank Zappa, who died on December 4, 1993, having accomplished among many more notable wonders a track called “The Chrome Plated Megaphone of Destiny” on the Mothers of Invention’s third album, We’re Only In It for the Money (a travesty of Sgt. Pepper that memorably pictured four grossly alluring “Mothers” instead of John, Paul, George, and Ringo). In his liner notes, Zappa claims that “The Chrome Plated Megaphone of Destiny,” with its electronic crackling and screeching, is intended to give “a musical approximation” of Kafka’s “In The Penal Colony.” more