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The New Speed of Assimilation

Last year, I could think of nothing more vile, nothing more nihilistic, nothing more soul-draining, than The Human Centipede, which I could barely bring myself to write about. And now, in the last 24 hours, comes: a) Donald Trump on the tarmac in Portsmouth, N.H., congratulating himself on the release of the president's birth certificate, looking as if his mouth had been sewn onto Karl Rove's asshole; and b) the new season of South Park, which sews Steve Jobs's overweening ambition onto the asshole of The Human Centipede and comes up with The Human CentiPad. The episode was, like much of the work of Messrs Parker and Stone, unbridled genius. But I am afeard, my friends, of how quickly We Have Learned to Stop Worrying and Love The Human Centipede.

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