Content-Type: text/shitpost


Subject: The joy of Dada
Path: you​!your-host​!ultron​!uunet​!batcomputer​!plovergw​!plover​!shitpost​!mjd
Date: 2018-04-13T22:05:27
Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking.dada
Message-ID: <d9bc1fcd83e4dbb2@shitpost.plover.com>
Content-Type: text/shitpost

I am a lifelong Dadaist. My family tells me that when I was very small my father could carry me around my grandparents' living room on his shoulders, and when we got to place where a Hans Arp collage was hanging, I would get excited, point, and exclaim “Arp! Arp!”.

Wikipedia says:

Arp told the story of how, when he was notified to report to the German consulate, he avoided being drafted into the German Army: he took the paperwork he had been given and, in the first blank, wrote the date. He then wrote the date in every other space as well, then drew a line beneath them and carefully added them up. He then took off all his clothes and went to hand in his paperwork.

(Unfortunately, no citation is given. But it seems to be recounted in Matthew Josephson, Life Among the Surrealists: A Memoir; Holt, Reinhart and Winston, 1962.)

I like this much better than the story about how Edgar Allan Poe got himself expelled from West Point.