Geoff Klock provides a link to a song by the Weakerthans (um..who dey?) called “Our Retired Explorer (Dines With Michel Foucault In Paris, 1961)”
Is this [a] fun and silly nonsense song, in which the main attraction is the fact that it uses Derrida’s name to rhyme with Antarctica, and imagines Foucault having a conversation with a retired explorer? A song in which the explorer, possibly drunk, cannot understand Foucault’s dense philosophy and wants to go home, or is trying to politely extricate himself from Foucault’s romantic overtures, or both, and blames it on his lousy French? Is that last question aimed at a passerby, a funny, doomed attempt at an escape?
Fun! Well anyway. Here are the lyrics as provided by Geoff:
Just one more drink and then I should be on my way home. I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about. I’ve had a really nice time but my dogs need to be fed. I must say that in the right light you look like Shackleton. Comment allez-vous ce soir? Je suis comme ci comme-ca. Yes, a penguin taught me French back in Antarctica. Oh, I could show you the way shadows colonize snow, ice breaking up on the bay off the Lassiter coast, light failing over the pole as every longitude leads up to your frost bitten feet–Oh, you’re very sweet! Thank you for the flowers and the book by Derrida but I must be getting back to dear Antarctica. Say, do you have a ship and a dozen able men that maybe you could lend me? Oh Antarctica!