Ah, Lacan...While the postmodern generation, driven to digital scriptololia and hiding beneath their cyber-covers dreaming of Hale-Bopp, continues to feed the yet burgeoning X-philes kitsch and cannabis industry, Lacan stands ready, armed with a bastion of certitude decked out in quagmire of tangled, crabbed, needling, Gallic, galling prose: beneath it all, the phallus, the objet a, the name-of-the-father, the Other of the Other, and jouissance, it all goes back to mom. Oh, the laughter--that none may deny--EVERYBODY's parents @*&#-ed them up!