Tonight, as K washed the dishes and I packed tomorrow's lunches, we sang The Michel Foucault Song.
The Michel Foucault Song came with K.
[Sort of a packaged deal.]
For as long as I have known him, this song has been K's special serenade to week nights.
Tonight, we taught the song to our children.
And, to the tune of For He's a Jolly Good Fellow, it goes a little something like this...
"I'm reproducing my labor, I'm reproducing my labor, I'm reproducing my LAAAAYYYYBOOOOR... so I can sell it to The Man."Now that my children know The Michel Foucault Song, perhaps they will grow up to be like him...
Perhaps they will examine the relationships between power, knowledge and discourse.
[And maybe, like Michel, they will also like leetle kittehz.]