I fucking hate Ruskin. The man was a total and utter talentless wanker who spent his entire life greasing up to people with actual talent in the hope that it would make him look even vaguely interesting, and writing endless reams of boring self-obsessed wank about the fact that he was the only person with any taste that had ever lived and how everything he liked was GREAT and how everything he didn't like was evil, twisted and WRONG, and how everyone should listen to him because he was the only person in the entire world who understood the concept of sublime genius and everyone else didn't so they should just shut up and listen to HIM, and whoops! here's another random thought that's skipped into his brain, wonder whether that can be expanded into another three-volume book? bet it can, and then in a hundred and fifty years time some poor innocent editor can be forced to sit looking through the entire thing looking for one tiny sodding sentence about Turner, which will be really hard to find because there are three million other sentences in there about Turner, because he was GREAT and SUBLIME, but not quite as great as Ruskin, doh! obviously, but all those other sentences will not be the one the poor editor needs to find, and so she will be driven MAD and it serves her right because she's like, totally NOT sublime like what Turner and (especially) Ruskin are, and so HA HA AHA HA HAHA HA!
I'm only glad he's not living today because his blog would be so stuffed with self-obsessed wank that it would probably take up half the known universe.
Stay tuned for next week, when we'll be getting unfeasibly annoyed about other topical issues such as crop rotation under the feudal system and Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries....