Jack Mason hosts the Perfume Nationalist podcast with his brother and a girl nicknamed Jugs. In other words, Mother, Jugs & Speed cohost the Perfume Nationalist. (She’s the in-house anti-Semite, joined by a special-guest-star anti-Semite for a number of episodes.)

Originality is overrated and underrated all at once, but the show achieves actual originality by “pairing” a varietal of perfume with one or more movies. Jack’s rejection of neoliberal morality as mere play-acting, particularly by females, is as recognizably gay as his voice, with which he delivers bon mots at breakneck speed. He reminds me of the late Prince of Queens.

He also mispronounces things constantly and just uses the wrong words. His brother, a sound-engineer hobbyist, handles everything technical, and subjects listeners to a sound collage on each episode prefaced by a piercing pure tone, but cannot quite figure out that a filename like 2019_09_04_TPN_s01ep33_Rose_Clouds_
of_Holocaust_w_JUGS_n_Ty_E_TEASER - The Perfume Nationalist
is a complete nightmare.

Jack appreciates avant-garde cinema and makes a strong case for the true artistry of works and performers, from Knots Landing to Lens Dunham, derided by bien-pensant lamestream critics. He appreciates Thirtysomething, for which I handwrote a 330-page episode guide, and adores C. Paglia and F. Lebowitz.

So you think we’d get along like a house on fire.

No. What he doesn’t have is continuity with cultured eldergays, of whom he knows none. His boyfriend certainly isn’t one. Lebowitz unoriginally observed that AIDS killed all the cool people (I know who gave her that line), and further observed, this time originally, that AIDS killed off a high-connoisseurship audience that has never been replaced. But Jack forgets Fran Lebowitz’s own life history (as retold in Public Speaking):

I was interested in older people. I always had friends much older than me. I had friends so much older than me that, by the time I was 40, many of my closest friends had died of old age already. But it was because they were older than me – in other words, because they could teach me something, you know, but not because I thought they were going to do the new thing. That was my job, you know? That’s how the work used to be split up.

Jack derides White wymmynz’ performative allergies to perfume and their endless elective ailments, like fibromylagia. He instant-messaged me to basically tell him to stop funnelling corrections his way, at which point I told him he could block me.

Jack’s an expert on perfume (I still do not know what ouds, fougères, and chypres are, but at least I can pronounce those words, along with “Fassbender” and “chthonic”), while his brother is adept at sound design. Jack’s allergy to other forms of expertise is performative and elective and traces back to the unbreachable chasm caused by having no cultured eldergays in his life to guide and correct him.

(I added the public Perfume Nationalist episodes to the Internet Archive, where Jack’s brother’s insane URLs are prominently displayed. All my corrections were and are correct and his ire is purely elective, but I’m a paid subscriber to the Perfume Nationalist nonetheless. And despite Jack’s hubris, some brigade of trannies, a word often used on the podcast, are going to get him booted off Patreon, which will then seize all his money.)


(2020.05.01) “You know someone is cool when their big thing is owning people by correcting pronunciation,” Jack writes.

Option 2: Learn and improve. Surely Old Spice is just like Yatagan?

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2020.04.19 13:15. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

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