We Are All Waluigi
no I wasn't high when I thought up this topic
One of the foundational pieces of the internet, for me, is this brief philosophical deconstruction of Waluigi from 2013. It is the only piece of critical theory I have been able to read completely through, aside from The Origins of Totalitarianism, and even with that one I have to confess my eyes glazed over in a few sections.
“Waluigi’s identity only comes from what and who he isn’t—without a wider frame of reference he is nothing. He is not his own man,” writes Franck Ribery. “In a world where our identities are shaped by our warped relationships to brands and commerce we are all Waluigi.”
In 2013, this had the cadence of a joke, but it isn’t, really, is it? The phrase “we are all Waluigi” tumbles around in my head with greater and greater frequency these days. A distortion of a distortion, Xerox of a Xerox.
Consider Mario: a plumber. A guy who has a concrete job essential to the quality of life of his community. Wario is the inverse, a sneering boor who has the trappings of the plumber, but never seems to do any plumbing, a life spent in mockery and hate. The illusion of the plumber. Waluigi, then, is the next evolutionary step, the not-even-an-actual-relative of the illusion.
Our work has no more meaning. Our words are being drained of it. Our ability to positively affect our own lives and communities is being stripped away by barely concealed fascists.
All that is left is Brand, the consumption thereof, to stand in for the lives we should be living. The Waluigi of existence, offering naught but plaintive, self-pitying cries. Is it any wonder, then, given that we are all Waluigi, that we choose elected representatives who seem to do nothing but whine? That we pay money to one company (whoever’s making those Hallmark Christmas movie tunics pictured above) to show our allegiance to another company (Hallmark)?
…Maybe I should just eat some edibles.