Thursday, March 08, 2007

The Dangers of Honesty Pt. 1

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a column about how SxSW is a festival which gets maligned far too often without good reason. Not that there’s no reason to malign the fest. There are PLENTY of reasons to bash it. It’s strayed far from its original purpose, which was to provide a venue for unsigned bands to play in front of suits with pens, blank contracts, and corporate accounts.

What could have been called a “talent convention”. Or “slave auction”. Whatever. Bottom line: the bands are only there for exposure. I don’t know if any of them get paid today, but in the beginning, NONE of them did. They tried out, sent demo tapes to the SxSW “talent scouts”, and hoped that they would be given the opportunity to play in front of whoever it is that “makes” the industry. It’s a privilege, not a right, to play SxSW. Even today.

But the spirit of it has changed significantly. And I don’t think that’s coincidence or random chaos which has led the fest to where it is today.

Now we get to hear The Stooges, Morrissey, and The Walkmen. Aren’t these bands signed? And if they aren’t, do they even care? Are The Stooges looking to pen a record deal, or are they just going to play some classics, collect a fat ass check, eat some Kirby Queso and fly on back to the home for wayward punk retirees?

Are these “headliners” here to appease the throngs of crybabies from years past who peered over the list of unsigned bands who were there to scratch out their name, and thoughtlessly bawled “I’ve never HEARD of any of these shitty bands! I want some of that Ramones, or maybe an underground act like Coldplay!”? Why the fuck did they do that if it’s supposed to be a festival to connect the unsigned with those of signing authority?

Ozomotli or Bloc Party about to be free agents or some shit? Panthers? Come on.

And then there’s the cost to get in, traffic, lines at eateries, and wha-whah-cry-blah-tears.

And it’s all legitimate, every complaint. But why bother? It isn’t going to change just because it’s incapable of being everything to everyone. It is what it is, and the majority loves it in its current form. So why not just find a way to enjoy that shit? For the love of god, if the festival pisses you off, then turn that urine into lemonade!

At least, that’s what I tried to write in my Austinist post, in a roundabout sort of way. Even if the other crybaby contingency, the throwers of the festival, cannot grasp the possibility that people like me who love the festival, but completely understand why others hate it, actually exist. And that unlike both extremes, we aim to be a reasonable middle ground of an island, poking out from a see of their obnoxious tears.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

God Has Better Sense Than That

God-fucking-damn this man. What the hell does he think he’s doing? What an incomprehensible ASSHOLE.

I’ve never been a big fan of Robertson, or his penchant for pouring the blood-soaked cash of his sheep-like followers all over our political process like the talentless wannabe entertainer he is. But to get all Chicken Little like this is beyond absurd. Worse yet, it’s criminally reckless. Why can’t his “god” explain THAT to him? Motherfucker.

We have enough fear mongering going on here in The States. Like a crazed wildfire that ends up consuming even the most honest and good-meaning citizenry. It’s a duping process, a psychological chain of events. Perhaps not coordinated, but certainly symbiotic in light of the results. Big Money provides the fuel. Big Political Influence lights it. And let’s face it, Big Religious Cults such as the 700 Club fan the living fuck out of it.

And then we all get burned.

So here’s Robertson, spewing even more of his “the sky’s fallin’! So better write me a check quick!” rhetoric, trying to promote his various religious and political machines on the ol’ boob toob. His own little show. His already-willing crew of followers. As he’s always doing. Why should I care, right?

Why? Because this time he’s stepped even further over the line than he has in the past. Now he’s fucking practically “guaranteed” some sort of attack JUST BECAUSE HE AND THOSE WHO INVEST IN HIS SMUG SMIRK WON’T WANT TO BE WRONG. And I get the feeling we’re all going to get burned here.

It’s flabbergasting the lengths to which some people will go to desperately maintain relevance. And it sucks that on some level, it works. I am, after all, discussing and considering this megalomaniac and his insane ramblings. Even when he’s obviously off his rocker. Damnit.

Dude is wrong ALL the time. On a daily, if not hourly basis, I would imagine. Pretty much constantly. That comes part-n-parcel with being pathological. And sure, he’s usually little more than a historical revisionist when he makes one of his myriad of incorrect predictions, selfishly invoking the emotionally-charged moniker by claiming some shit about how “god told” him all about it. But usually he’s prattling on about typhoons, earthquakes and “god-willed” diseases for gays. In other words: shit he has no understanding of and honestly has no influence over.

But murder and destruction by one man on another? Well that just makes me all kinds of paranoid. He’s suddenly more than just that kooky fool on the corner bellowing out nonsense about the “third coming” of the chupacabra wars or whatever. Now he’s making me nervous. And I’m not nervous about any terrorist attack.

I’m more nervous of him.

If he’s going to claim god spoke to him, which is his right (to be insane), then I’m going to go ahead and assert my right and claim that god (jabberwocky, Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man, or any other figment-ish creature) did no such stupid thing. And as a corollary to my claim, if there IS an attack of any substantial proportion on US soil that even RESEMBLES his obnoxiously vague description, then it had to have happened BECAUSE of Roberts’ self-serving “look at me! I talk to the baby jesus!” prediction.

Thanks Pat, you dick.