a bluesman in the life of my balls, a jazzman in the world of the second and third Matrix movies

Just real quick.

This is the second time I've seen Cornell West describe himself as “a bluesman in the life of the mind, a jazzman in the world of ideas, forever on the move.”

There's so much wrong with it I don't know where to start.

I mean, just obviously, it's arbitrary. It would be, presumably, just as easy to be a bluesman in the world of ideas or a jazzman in the life of the mind. But not just arbitrary; it's got the unsettling confluence of self-congratulation and arbitrariness. Name one person you care about who's a bluesman AND a jazzman. You can't do it. Pick one, motherfucker! You don't get to have it all the ways. I don't go around naming every career I respect or envy and then ascribing it to myself and my own day-to-day: "I'm a classical guitarist of the life of sitting on the couch watching TV, a neuropathologist of ordering pizza, a priest of not giving a shit about literary criticism, a really good chef of not exercising enough, forever on the move. I am a porn star of checking my email on my phone, forever fucking bitches (on my phone)."

Besides, what's the relationship between being a bluesman or a jazzman and being forever on the move? Like, is there a predicative relationship? Or mightn't it be more accurate to describe oneself as a railroad hobo of the life of the mind, or a traveling salesman of in the world of ideas, forever on the move? Or is Cornell West ok with dismissing every stationary, non-itinerant blues and jazzman in the world? Dick move, Cornell.

Dick move.