Nathan Robinson has written about the obscurantism of Jordan Peterson, and I’m not even the first to blog about it. Pankaj Mishra has been deconstructing Peterson’s mysticism here, while Kelefa Sanneh’s critique is here. After months of hysterical fanboy cheer-leading, it seems like this is the week everyone finally starts having a go at Jordan. It’s becoming almost repetitive. But perhaps that’s appropriate; after all, when it comes to matters Petersonian, it’s never long before you get that old-wine-in-new-bottles sensation. So let’s just pile aboard the bandwagon.
Let’s reheat that take-out junk food one more time (and strangle some metaphors while we’re at it).
Jordan Peterson is not the first pseudo-intellectual to make big bucks out of textually contorted trivia. He is not the first to go viral with quick-fix self-help bunkum. He is definitely not the first to marshal near-incomprehensible verbiage in the enterprise of charismatic intellectual…
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