Professor Falstaff loved bricolage. The concept, the activity.

He would, magpie that he was. It provided rationalization, justification and air cover for his grasping after shiny objects.

He probably learned it from Lévi-Strauss, less likely Derrida. Doesn't matter. It suited him, in part because it allowed him to allow himself to say one thing one day then the opposite the next day yet mean them both sincerely, where the contradiction was merely an outcome of random ruptures along the weakest stress lines of his mental papier-mâché.