I'm so postmodern I bought a round the world plane ticket, and stuffed my clothes with eggplant and pretended it was me.

Hey, we're inside a box.
Outrageous. Nobody puts [me] in a box. For I defy all categories.

For those keeping track, that was a reference to a parody, of a parody. I'll have to check the official guidebook, but I think that makes it funny again!

I think of the postmodern attitude as that of a man who loves a very cultivated woman and knows he cannot say to her, "I love you madly," because he knows that she knows (and that she knows that he knows) that these words have already been written by Barbara Cartland. Still, there is a solution. He can say, "As Barbara Cartland would put it, I love you madly."

The simulacrum is never that which conceals the truth — it is the truth which conceals that there is none. The simulacrum is true.

I had a lengthy discussion about The Power of Myth

With a postmodern author, who didn't exist