Chicks with dick jokesOkay, time

Chicks with dick jokes

Okay, time for some serious sociology. Or at least snarky media criticism, which often passes for serious sociology in our particular culture (well, mine, if you happen to not be reading this from the good ole’ US of A ).

But first, let me unload my official position on aesthetics: when it comes to art, there are no right answers.

None. Zip. Zero. Nada. Bupkiss.

Art, by definition, is subjective. If it weren’t, they’d call it science, and they’d have to peer-review TV Guide.

Stating that one particular musical composition is “better” than another is a complete absurdity. Same goes for television, theater, movies, painting, sculpture, and abstract compositions of religious icons composed solely of dung from endangered species found only in and around MOMA.

The only criteria commonly used to assess art that can be said to be objective is how many people like it. This is a painful realization. It means Britney Spears comes out ahead of Moby. It means that Independence Day is “better” than Vanilla Sky. It means that Friends is superior to Buffy.

I’m trying to point out unpleasant ideas here, if it isn’t getting through.

But that’s the way it is. So best not to worry about it. And therefore: best to approach any discussion of art with the idea that, unlike history, politics, and science — there are no right answers. There’s just the noise you’re making in your argument, and the noise the other guy is making with his. And the question is: who can shout louder.

And so: On to the shouting.

I will put it simply: I do not understand Sex and the City.

Sopranos, I get. (I have issues with it, but I enjoy it, and I wouldn’t for a second try to say it’s not an extremely well done show — and my qualms are subject for another post). Six Feet Under, I haven’t seen. But Sex and the City, I have, and damnit, it drives me nuts.

So what’s the problem? you ask. Don’t watch it. Take your own advice, and sleep soundly knowing that there are no objective measures of culture.

Surely you can figure this part out.

Yup. You got it right. My fianc