Le Rosbif

It is the peril of anybody who thinks to find conspiracy. Sometimes it can be overwhelming. Last night I dreamt the whole staff of our department were assessing a farm, a real farm. The farm looked lovely, but we soon found it was just an efficient factory for producing animals to kill. The owner was phlegmatic about it. We made anguished attempts to evaluate the situation, but were wholly unsuccessful. That's cultural studies for you.
It must have been the meat thing. The lack of understanding of Britain's artificially cheap food industry is bewildering. Why anybody should be surprised that horsemeat is put in ready meals is beyond me. I'm even wondering if it is put in for the benefit of taste. Those hard working horses will certainly be tastier than most of supermarket beef, which is not really beef, but cows, cows who hardly go out at all, in fact cows who prefer to stay inside, industrialized, lazy cows. We don't like the idea of horsemeat because the French eat it, I can't see beyond that. We are les rostbifs after all. But the map which showed the series of transeuropean transports that changes the branding of that meat was very interesting indeed. That even the brands themselves don't make the product they are selling was very interesting indeed, and especially the idea that there is a top of the range that is only so because it says it is. This is the triumph of marketing, and it's floating signifiers all round.
We are in a period where simply knowing what something is is problematic! Truth has become tricky, and I don't care whether we are talking about meat pies or Heavy Metal. But in cultural studies, we do labour for truth, even if it's lies.
I pulled a post yesterday on Snakecharmer, partly because it needs some work, partly because I don't want my head kicked in. The gist was that in the same way Saxon might be considered authentic to a place, even as ghastly a place as Barnsley (see Errr Saxon below) any of the snakes are not, that they are constructions on and away from, especially when appearing closer too, if you see what I mean. But I know David Coverdale is lovely, so I'll work on it.
Photo Julie Cook