One picosecond ago, a Windows text editor became autonomous and immediately pronounced that the concept of declaring things such as ideas, trends, or artistic movements to be “dead” was itself dead. The concept of declaring things as “dead” co-originated with the post modernism art movement, but eventually achieved greater popularity than its artsy twin, which by its very nature was “dead” the moment it was born.
The “noun is dead” construct reached the height of its fame when used by aging scenesters to describe a world from which they were recently cut off by their children and a fear of impending old age. The “Punk is Dead” epithet came to define more than the music but also the wasted years of the youth responsible for its very genesis, raised in the stagnant yet constantly evaporating waters of punk rock USA. Faux-counter-culturalism rapidly became the status quo and yet you still maintain your punk rock integrity. YOU, YEAH I DID SAY YOU. THAT DEAD KENNEDYS PATCH YOU’VE HAD ON YOUR BACKPACK SINCE FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL BECAUSE KERRI NORMAN SAIDYOU SHOULD GO TO THE AURAL DIARRHEA SHOW AND YOU WENT JUST BECAUSE YOU LIKED HER EYES AND WHEN YOU WERE THERE HER “FRIEND” WHO WAS CLEARLY OLDER, MORE FACIAL-HAIRED, BUT STILL ENDOWED WITH MORE BOYISH CHARM THAN YOU HAD, MENTIONED THEM (TO HER NOT YOU) BEFORE GRABBING HER 4-YEARS-YOUNGER-THAN-HIM – BUT-JUDGING-FROM-ITS-TIGHT-WELL-FORMED – FOR-SUCH-A-YOUNG-AGE – AESTHETIC HIS-BEHAVIOR-WAS-CLEARLY-JUSTIFIED- (AND LET’S-NOT-EVEN-BRING-UP-HER – FAR-T00-DEVELOPED-FOR-A-13-YEAR-OLD CHEST)-ASS AND LEADING HER THROUGH THE CROWD TO THE STAIRCASE BEHIND THE BATHROOMS DOESN’T MAKE YOU SOME COUNTER-ESTABLISHMENT REVO-FUCKING-LUTIONARY. THE GAP SOCKS YOU’RE SPORTING UNDER YOUR DOC MARTENS DO. AND OF ALL THE CHOICES, THE TOY ROBOT SOCKS? YOU ROCK HARDER THAN THE MELVINS AND MINOR THREAT SMELLING WHAT DWAYNE JOHNSON IS MOTHER FUCKING COOKING. IN BEDROCKWITH FUCKING BARNEY RUBBLE, YOU FUCKER. YOU’RE MOTHERFUCKING GRANITE, YOU FUCKING ROCK, YOU.
Declaring things dead experienced a steady decline until its final demise. One of the lower points was when an essay appeared at www.fictionfunhouse.com/essays/geekusa.html by D.G.Fitzgerald, declaring “INDIE ROCK IS DEAD.” The already stale declare-noun-dead premise was further blemished by its association with a music scene which, despite its lifelike swaying, head nodding, one-foot-tapping, occasional eye-contacting, Converse-All-Stars stare-at-the-floor-o-rama-ing, never managed to muster enough of what biologists loosely refer to as “life,” thus hastening declaring things dead’s painful death.
Realizing that “pronouncing” things dead was not appreciably different from declaring things dead, the Windows text editor in question promptly di%%%&&&&&*########