Milan Kundera’s claim that “kitsch is the absolute denial of shit”
is not really true,
it is, rather, the painting of the walls of our imprisoned minds
with comforting fæces.
Nor is it just "a parody of catharsis", as declared by Adorno.
It is the double wallow of weeping over the suffering of others
and then again over our self-indulgent self-identification with the sufferers,
the cluttering of consciousness with sickly sentimentality
to ward off awareness.
Like many kids I was reduced to tears
by the kitschy Disney film,
and have hated Disney and his grotesque
all-American kitsch-factory ever since.
Understandably, I am now a coprophobe
from being thrown into that shit of kitsch.
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