NYU, my alma mater, had more than her fair share of sham-intellectual douchenozzles whose wildly naïve political views rivaled only their incredibly poor hygiene in offending common decency. These guys walked around with Che Guevara t-shirts — there is a special, sad irony in the pop culture commercialization of an anti-capitalist murderer — and spouted nonsense about anarchy and communism. My buddy Eric poked a bit of fun at the archetype in his 2008 film Lowenstein’s a Terrorist, in which the writer/director himself cameos wearing a Che shirt. (Side note: one scene was filmed in my old apartment on John Street.)
My point is that today’s Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal fills me with the warm and fuzzy nectar of nostalgia.