Ohbitchyouhairy: Beeve Wedgethick, heavyweight of academic Left, kicks bucket.

April 21, 2009

“From fairest creatures we desire increase, / That thereby beauty’s rose might never die.” — Shakespeare, Sonnet 1

sedgwick

(Durham, NC)  Beeve Wedgethick, heavyweight on the academic Left (and bathroom scale), noted disciple of French leather-bar patron Michel Foolcauld, went to her eternal reward last week. Wedgethick, 69, was Newman’s Own Dressing Professor of English and Kulchural Studies at Duke.  (The university is now best known as the stalag where the lacrosse team, libeled as rapists and racists by university president Brod Dickhead and 87 members of his professoriat, were railroaded in a show trial; the crooked prosecutor and lying chief witness were subsequently exposed, of course, and all charges dropped.)

According to Wikipedia, where she did most of her research, Wedgethick’s many and weighty excogitations, eagerly lapped up by the sort of dim grad student who thinks Judith Buttlore’s cool — she failed freshman logic at Yale, Ruth Marcus told me  — include:

  • Between Mensrooms: English Litterchur and Male Homosocial Desire in the Humanities Building Basement (1985), a learned, lucid treatise on why many young college Homo sapiens, faced with young college women who look like Wedgethick, decide it’s sapiens to be homo;
  • Epissemology of the Watercloset (1990), a sensitive probing of the dark, mucky nooks and crannies of the smallest room in the house, which the sexual Other has, as second-class citizen, historically been compelled to enter through the back door (speaking of which, what pity Beeve’s books aren’t written on soft paper).

Wedgethick’s books, written in classical Asyntactic, have not been translated into English. However, it’s widely understood that they must be intellectually deep because few can squeeze meaning from the hard, tortured product Wedgethick put on paper, much as a dry well with no light looks profound though an inch deep. Happily, therefore, several of Beeve’s Nude Historicist colleagues (as in the emperor has no clothes) survive burrowed into the woodwork at Harvard and Berkeley, still living the glory days of 1979; several are proficient in Asyntactic and have volunteered to translate Wedgethick’s messy effluvia into stylish English (or their best approximation).

– Martinus Scriblerus

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