Did Reagan and Thatcher Really Keep Punk Alive?

reagan_punk_flyerIn the opening scene of the the 2006 documentary, American Hardcore, which was adapted from Steven Blush’s 1999 tome, middle-aged, bald Vic Bondie from Chicago based hardcore punk band, Articles of Faith says something to the effect of, “Reagan was saying it’s morning in America.  It’s fucking MIDNIGHT, MAN!”  This was his way of saying that, in November 1980, when Ronald Reagan was elected President of these here United States, EVERYTHING changed!

It was like Germany 1933 all over again.  Only THIS TIME, there would be REAL opposition to the Nazis in the form of a bunch of 15 – 18 year old kids with crew cuts, combat boots, black denim and cutoff band t-shirts idiotically slamming into one another while a band of middling talent provided the loud, fast, aggressive soundtrack.  Sure a few casualties were rounded up in the form of split heads and severed ears – Jack Grisham of T.S.O.L. admits to slicing kids’ ears off with the spur of his engineer boot – but this was the sound of the YOUTH, a true left-wing opposition to the rising tide of Reaganite fascism.

This of course paralleled the opposition to the equally fascist government of Margaret Thatcher in England, where much more fashion conscious, mohawk wearing punks like the Exploited didn’t waste a moment to call Margaret Thatcher a “cunt.”

By the mid-80s, metal bands like Metallica, Slayer, Anthrax and Megadeth heard the rallying cry of the punks and joined along.  Now the anti-oppressive, anti-fascist message would have better distortion, longer songs and more guitar solos!

By the end of the 80s, the U.S. elected a moderate, slightly less fascist President in George Bush, and, in 1992, fascism was finally crushed – at least, until 2000 – when MTV rocked the vote and President Clinton was elected.  The remaining hardcore punk bands, those that hadn’t broken up, were forced to scratch their heads about what they could possibly sing about.  They had the duel challenge that their righteous, anti-fascist message was now being sold to MILLIONS of people thanks to commie, rap rockers Rage Against the Machine and the fact that, well, Clinton wasn’t a Republican.

So, THANK GOD, that, in 2000, George W. Bush was elected and the bands could get righteous again.

I got the inspiration for this piece when I read Gavin McInnes’ article about how comedians hate Donald Trump and, without him, they’d have a dearth of things to mock, as if the dysfunction of their own lives isn’t good enough.  This same line of reasoning has been parroted about punk rock and, especially its louder, faster offshoot hardcore punk; the 70s might have had some problems, but with the election of Ronald Reagan, now they REALLY had something to complain about, or as the Dead Kennedys sang, “We’ve got a bigger problem now.”

That’s of course if you think music, and punk rock especially, is something more than just a form of entertainment, a loud, fun, raucous way to “get the lead out.”  And unfortunately, for a bunch of free-loading, smelly Anarcho/crust punks, this is the case.

Although there were precursors to punk, bands such as the Velvet Underground, the Stooges, the MC5, the New York Dolls and the Modern Lovers, the general rule of thumb is that the first modern sounding punk rock album was the self titled debut from the Ramones, released in April of 1976.  Johnny Ramone was a Republican who felt that his often copied, down-strumming, “da-da-da” approach was meant to mimic the shooting of an AK-47.  A hippie he was not.

With the exception of maybe the MC5, who largely disavowed their pro-Maoist views, left-wing style revolution was never the first thing on the minds of any of these bands.  Punk, in general, was predicated upon bands who made their stake at being fuck-ups with catchy songs.

By 1977, the major labels gambled on these lovable miscreants and officially called their music “punk rock.”  These new rock groups had funny, sometimes indecent names like the Sex Pistols, the Dead Boys, the Dictators, the Saints, the Clash, the Damned, the Ruts, the Boomtown Rats, the Buzzcocks, the Heartbreakers (not the Tom Petty band!!!), the Vibrators, the Stranglers, the Adverts, the Rezillos, X-Ray Spex, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits and Richard Hell and the Voidoids.

They wrote fuck-up songs for fuck-up kids about fuck-up topics, or, as Johnny Ramone said, “we just want to write about sick topics.”  Punks sang about serial killers, Nazis, rapists, horror movies, beating people up, boredom, juvenile delinquency and, well, being a fuck-up, while bashing out wonderfully juvenile, short and catchy songs that hearkened back to 1950s rock ‘n’ roll, albeit with much louder distortion and snottier vocals.  They also wore funny clothes, making “anti-fashion” statements with torn t-shirts, spiky hair, safety pins, smeared makeup, leather jackets and even swastikas.  Many disguised their attempts at obnoxiousness as “artistic statements.”  Some on the mainstream saw them as a threat; many more saw them as just the new thing the kids are into.

Occasionally a band like the Clash would sing about being on the dole, working in a factory or rioting against “the man.”  Occasionally a group of so-called Anarchists such as Crass would try to make you feel bad for everything you enjoy.  Leather jacket?  That’s made out of an animal!  And soon a movement based upon their principles emerged, saying that punk could no longer be about having fun being a fuck-up. NOW punk had to have a message!

Meanwhile, in the United States, by 1979, major labels like Sire (actually Sire was a much smaller label, but it was bought by Warner Bros., bumping it up to major status) had grown tired of their fuck-up bands.  The Ramones, the Dead Boys and Richard Hell and Voidoids weren’t selling millions of their fuck-up records to millions of fuck-up kids like they had hoped.  Instead, the majority of Americans prefered Animals by Pink Floyd, Rumours by Fleetwood Mac or the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack.

So, the fuck-up bands either had to break up or change their approach for commercial appeal, giving us the closest to punk crossover hits with the Patti Smith/Bruce Springsteen duet “Because the Night”, catchy as hell pop songs by Blondie and “Whip It” by Devo.  Meanwhile, the underground was bubbling with activity and new labels such as Slash and Dangerhouse emerged with new fuck-up bands with names like the Weirdos, the Germs, X, the Bags, the Deadbeats, the Controllers and the Dils.

But, just being a fuck-up with really great songs wasn’t good enough.  The Dead Kennedys formed in 1978 in San Francisco and their singer, agent provocateur Jello Biafra had a real message to sell to the kids.  Punk rock wasn’t about fun!  We have to change the world, man!  We have to take the world back from its evil obsession with capitalism.

The irony is that the first Dead Kennedys album, Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables, released in 1980, primarily attacked limousine liberals like Jane Fonda (“Kill the Poor”), rich black people who claim they have a connection with ghetto black people (“Holiday in Cambodia”), shady landlords (“Let’s Lynch the Landlord”) and ultra-liberal San Francisco governor Jerry Brown (“California Uber Alles”).

With the exception of maybe “Chemical Warfare” and “When You Get Drafted”, one could make an argument that Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables was just politically ambiguous satire with no leftist agenda.  Hell the track “Holiday in Cambodia” has the line “bragging that you know how the niggers feel cold/and the slums got so much soul” before bashing Pol Pot, the Communist dictator of Cambodia.  The track “I Kill Children” is just supposed to be shock punk with no message and “Your Emotions” is just Jello telling some broad, “your emotions make you a monster.”

The point?

By 1980, with the death of major label interest in “punk rock” and the rise of “new wave” and “power pop” or the so called skinny tie bands, a younger, angrier, MUCH more antisocial wave of punks hit the scene.  Anorexic, heroin addicted, twenty-something art school types, who spiked their hair up and wore torn blazers with safety pins, were replaced by line-backer sized, beer guzzling, suburban surf jocks, who shaved their heads and wore black jeans with chains for belts and engineer boots.  Safe pogoing (jumping up and down to the beat) was replaced by vicious slam dancing (or the mosh pit, if you will), and hardcore punk was born.

Does any of that sound like the beginnings of a leftist political movement?  None of the music on any of the records by Black Flag, Minor Threat, Circle Jerks, the Misfits, Fear or Bad Brains had a single mention of Ronald Reagan.  Personal turmoil, angst, self-hatred, hatred for society and, in the case of the Misfits, horror movies, were typical themes.

Were there leftist bands?  Sure.  Following the election of Reagan, the Dead Kennedys sang several songs about “cowboy Ronnie forking out his tongue at human rights”, D.O.A. sang “Fucked Up Ronnie”, D.R.I. did “Reaganomics” and Suicidal Tendencies even sang “I Shot the Devil”  about shooting the man, a rather tasteful statement considering the recent attempt on his life (to be fair, the song also talks about shooting Anwar Sadat and John Lennon).  Other bands, with names like Reagan Youth, Corrosion of Conformity, Millions of Dead Cops, the Dicks and the Crucifucks, sang more generic leftist lyrics, typically bashing war, politicians, cops, Christians, teachers, jocks and heavy metal bands; basically anyone that didn’t adhere to their narrow minded view of life.

As a side note, I talked with Paul Bakija of Reagan Youth at a gig they did in Cleveland, and you best believe he collected a princely sum for selling their song “Degenerated” to a Hollywood studio to use in the 1994 comedy film Airheads, starring Brendan Fraser, Steve Buscemi and Adam Sandler as members of a goofy punk metal kinda band called the Loan Rangers.

But, it was mainly Tim Yohannan, an ex-Yippie, who was essentially the Saul Alinsky of the punk scene, that tried to fashion hardcore punk into some sort of left wing opposition movement.  His magazine, the ultra popular, Maximum Rock ‘n’ Roll deliberately bashed any bands who didn’t adhere to a strident leftist way of life and, as the 80s progressed, punk rules got more stringent;  being “true” and not being a “sellout” or a “poser” became more difficult with each passing generation, to the point where you have bands today who have the strictest of attitudes of what constitutes “punk.”  Punk isn’t about music, man!  It’s a way of life!  I actually got yelled at by some punks for listening to Bad Brains because, in the 80s, they referred to openly gay bands like the Big Boys and the Dicks as “bloodclot faggots.”  “You just think it’s about if you like the music and don’t care at all what they stand for?”  I’m not kidding.

By 1986, there was both a political and musical backlash; political in the form of New York Hardcore bands like Agnostic Front, Cro-Mags and Murphy’s Law, who blatantly supported Ronald Reagan and musical as hardcore bands moved away from their core sound and tried other approaches.  Black Flag became sludgier and helped invent grunge, the Meat Puppets became a sort of country punk hybrid, Husker Du turned into a melodic rock band, the Replacements became the Tom Petty of the underground. Early bands like Misfits, Minor Threat and Negative Approach broke up so that their singers could form more expansive, experimental bands.

How much of this had anything to do with Ronald Reagan?  I’d say none of it, but I’d be lying, because, in Reagan America, that awful, fascist place where people were oppressed, these bands had the freedom, the wherewithal, the extra capital from lower taxes and the chutzpah to launch their own labels, their own scene and their own little world apart from the major label and corporate/liberal media.  To be fair, labels like SST and Alternative Tentacles were started in 1978 and 1979 respectively, but, at very least, Reagan didn’t prevent these labels from functioning.  They were examples of capitalism at its finest.

The irony is that, in 1986, the Dead Kennedys’ career wasn’t killed by Ronald Reagan and his “oppressive”, right wing regime, but by Tipper Gore, wife of Al “An Inconvenient Truth” Gore, a Democrat, who felt that the insert for their 1985 Frankenchrist LP, the H.R. Giger painting, Landscape XX, a supposed metaphor for corporate America’s alleged fucking of its workers, was obscene.  In other words, it was the leftist liberal Democrat who killed the art.

SavageHippie’s Top Ten Worst Films of All Time

Film-Reels-1986

Note: I’m no longer in L.A.  The rest of article remains the same.

I’m still in L.A. and I’m trying to figure out how to get to the Museum of Death, but, in the meantime, since I am in the home of the American film industry, I decided to list off the ten absolute worst films of all time.  Now, I watch a lot of movies that would be considered “bad” by normal person metrics; exploitation, Eurotrash, old horror, the entire Something Weird filmography, so my threshold is different from most people’s.

That means that, for me to consider a movie legitimately bad, it has to actively offend me.  In that way, I’m no different from Roger Ebert  or Gene Siskel, who award “zero stars” to films which are not “bad” in the traditional way, but offend whatever moral code they prescribe to.  Of course their ideas of morality and justice are different from mine in a lot of ways, so I’ve actually enjoyed many of their “zero star” films, among which include the mondo Africa addio, the futuristic race car splatter classic Death Race 2000, the rape/revenge flick I Spit on Your Grave and the Bob Guccioni produced Caligula.  Hell, Quentin Tarantino said rather enthusiastically that one of their “zero star” films, the slavery drama Mandingo, is the only exploitation flick ever produced by a major Hollywood studio.  And you best believe that Taraninto’s inclusion of Mandingo fighters in Django Unchained had little to do with attempting to be historically accurate and more to do with paying homage to the 1975 film.

So, what are MY “zero star” films?  What films are so stupid, awful and offensive that I would award them a grade of zero if I were to write film reviews for a major newspaper?  Read on and see!

10.) Crash (2005)

Not to be confused with David Cronenberg’s 1996 film of the same name, which is about sex and car crashes and based upon a work by J.G. Ballard, the 2005 film, which was directed by Paul Haggis, is one of the most idiotic, pedantic and in your face treatises ’bout dat racism.

It’s hard for me not to like a movie where a big time rapper says, “dawg, there’s a dead Chinaman under your car”, but somehow, this movie managed to elicit that response.  It’s just an Altman-esque pastiche of interweaving stories, all of which involve major Hollywood actors yelling lines where they say a bunch of generic “racist” stereotypes.  There is almost no real acting involved in any of it and the stories are so damn stupid and predictable, that you wonder if this wasn’t intended to be a made for TV special.  For instance, Matt Dillon plays a racist cop, who then saves a black woman.  Why is he racist?  He just is, ya know.  Did saving the black woman’s life make him un-racist?  I dunno, maybe.

9.) Dead Man Walking (1995)

This two hour anti-capital punishment propaganda film was directed by Tim Robbins and stars Sean Penn and big boobed commie pinko, Susan Sarandon.  Sarandon is the nun and tries to comfort Sean Penn, who is a neo-Nazi about to be killed on death row for murdering someone.  At first you think Penn is a bad guy because he killed someone, but then you realize he’s also a human being, so he deserves sympathy.  Sarandon tries to drag this sympathy out of the victim’s family.  Why would she do such an obviously inappropriate thing?  I dunno, because he’s got blood and veins and eyeballs and bones and feet and hands and skin.  Oh and he said he’s cool with Martin Luther King, Jr., so he can’t be all bad.

8.) Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967)

It’s hard for me to really hate this movie since it’s pretty entertaining, but the message from antiquated, ’60s liberal Stanley Kramer is so dumb and obvious, that I feel the movie doesn’t have a right to be so fun to watch.  Sidney Poitier is a black doctor who wants to marry a white woman played by Katherine Houghton.  Houghton’s San Francisco dwelling, liberal parents, Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn, are challenged by the notion of their white daughter marrying a black man.

Eventually everything works out, but what’s really grating is the notion that the only challenge the movie presents is skin color, which the white liberal family (and, to some extent, the black family) needed to “overcome”; their fairy tale narrative involves a woman marrying a doctor, not say, a member of the a Black Panthers.  And while, I’m not saying every black person is a member of the Black Panthers or is some kind of shifty, shady character who whites distrust, I am saying that I highly doubt liberal parents care THAT MUCH about skin color and skin color alone, with something like the Watts or Detroit riots fresh on their minds.  Be honest here; is the black/white divide based purely on skin pigmentation and on one group of people simply not liking the other because of it?  Is that REALLY the issue here?  Who knows; maybe it was more relevant then and parents really did say, “you’re bringing home a b-b-black?!”

7.) Forrest Gump (1994)

I have a feeling the lovable retard, Forrest Gump, as portrayed by Tom Hanks, is really supposed to be the everyman.  Don’t think for yourself, just let yourself be guided through life and everything will work out fine.  On the other hand, if you do think for yourself, you will die of AIDS.  Nowadays, given our modern zeitgeist, Forrest Gump might be remade with the roles of Gump and Jenny switched.

6.) Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)

Considered an all time classic of American cinema, in which quiver-voiced James Stewart stands in front of the evil, mean-spirited, probably Republican senate for twenty hours and doesn’t back down until they decide to build a camp for boys.  What the camp is for, I’d rather not guess.  Apparently not wanting to spend tax payer dollars on this camp rather than a dam is what is considered “political corruption” by the standards of even then liberal Hollywood.  I’m not a huge James Stewart fan; I often times find him to be more annoying than charming, but he’s been in some classics, such as Hitchcock’s Rear Window, The Man Who Knew too Much and Vertigo, George Cukor’s comedy classic The Philadelphia Story and Capra’s very own It’s a Wonderful Life, but this overly long, preachy, one-sided pile of propaganda is not one of them.

I scrolled through six IMDB pages of 8 to 10 star reviews before I found this two star review from an IMDB user named “lutheranchick”, who writes:

This film is a study of a Good Guy, who wants funding to start a national boys’ camp for the “Boy Rangers”, going against the Bad Guys, who want to build a dam on the same land only for their own selfish interests (not hydro-electricity or anything, you fool). You may ask why taxpayers would want to pay for a camp only a few of the nation’s boys could live near; you may ask why the camp couldn’t be built on a different piece of land; you may ask why a private organization should get federal funds; you may ask if there were any issues that constituents would have found more pressing. Well, apparently that’s because you’re one of the Bad Guys too.

Couldn’t have said it better myself!

5.) Bamboozled (2000)

I really despise Spike Lee and his race baiting bullshit.  As much as I enjoyed Do the Right Thing, I DO NOT feel that Mooky “did the right thing” by throwing a garbage can into the window of the pizza shop, and neither do several of my otherwise, sympathetic liberal friends who will run mental gymnastics to rationalize how “that’s not what Spike Lee meant.”  Sorry kiddos, Spike done think you haven’t self-flagellated enough.

Bamboozled is basically a loose remake of the 1976 Sidney Lumet classic, Network, only it’s loaded with old-timey, black racial stereotypes.  This is apparently to send a message that not much has changed and blacks “iz still enslaved to the white man” (well, actually Jewish man according to Spike Lee, but now he’s relegated to saying “white” instead of “Jewish” because we taught him what’s what when he complained about how Jews control Hollywood… only 61% of Hollywood, sheesh).  I actually like old-timey looking stuff, such as old toys, post-cards and cartoons, that have stereotypes of blacks and Asians, not to mention old Nazi propaganda with the hook nosed, Jewish ogre guy, so I guess I got the wrong message out of the movie.

4.) Every white teacher in an inner city school movie ever except for The Principal

Whether it’s Blackboard Jungle from 1955 or Dangerous Minds from 1995, the story is the same.  A white teacher/principal/superintendent from the suburbs comes to an inner city school and learns that, for this bunch, education is the last thing on their minds.  At first the teacher is cynical because, gosh darn it, these kids JUST can’t be taught!  But, through patience and teaching things on their level, in a way they understand, we can turn around this depressing situation.

Of course, in all of these, there will be the bad apple who just can’t be reformed because these movies have to have an ounce of realism.  That’s why the only teacher movie I like is The Principal with Jim Belushi, where the bad kid is played by Michael Wright, who was later in the HBO prison show Oz and he’s REALLY bad.  He ties a kid to a rope by his feet and drops him through the glass ceiling.  Someone that homicidal can’t be reformed.

3.) American History X (1998)

I read somewhere that Edward Norton slammed in the pits of the early ’80s D.C. hardcore scene.  So, it’s not surprising that, just like Ian McKaye turned the hardcore scene into a humorless, PC cesspool, Edward Norton allegedly imposed his vision onto director Tony Kaye, or at least that’s what I’ve read.  I don’t know if, without Norton’s meddling, American History X would have been as good as the far superior Romper Stomper; it’s for damn sure not nearly as fun as Graydon Clark’s 1989 film, Skinheads: The Second Coming of Hate.  The point is a lot of people really like American History X.  The typical defenses for the movie are that it’s “powerful” and “bold” and “the performances are good.”  Well, yeah, Norton and Edward Furlong do a good job.  But at what?  A guy I went to college with named Kip told me that the movie “tricks you into being racist.”  What he meant was that, during the scene where the skinheads challenge the thugs at basketball, they dramatically pump up the music when Norton’s character takes the winning shot in order to make you feel like you’re rooting for him.  Wow, you’re racist now.

Basically the movie is a litmus test to see if you were duped by this stupid ass after school special.  Typical story, kid’s dad is murdered by blacks, becomes leader of neo-Nazi group, meets good black guy in prison, realizes not all blacks are bad – he was given six years in prison for dropping a TV during a robbery?  Why WAS he committing a robbery?  Yeeeahhhh – and then is no longer racist.  Of course the movie’s “big” scene is when Edward Norton curb-stomps someone who is trying to steal his car.  The car thief is black, Norton is white and has a big ol’ swastika tattooed on his chest, so, because he’s a mean, ol’ racist, Norton stomped the guy’s head into a curb.   Did Mr. Dindu-Thuggalicious deserve to have his head stomped into a curb?  No, of course not.  A couple bullets to the chest would have sufficed, as they would for the thugs in Detroit who twice stole my car.

2.) Schindler’s List (1993)

Am I so callous as to deny the world’s most successful filmmaker of all time, Steven Spielberg, his props for making such wickedly awesome films as Duel, Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind or Raiders of the Lost Ark?  No, that would be foolish.  Those are great films in the action/horror/science fiction genres.  Hell, I even enjoyed Amistad solely for the violent opening scene where the slaves have the revolt and kill a bunch of people.  Spielberg, for all his child pandering bullshit, will put R worth violence on the screen.  Hell, the heart ripping scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was cause enough for the invention of the PG-13 rating.  Actually that makes me wonder if there is a conspiracy; rather than have his audience diminished by an R-rating, Spielberg gets a whole new, not quite R-rating invented for him?

Anyway, somewhere along the line, Spielberg decided to do the Holocaust in three acts.  Filmed in gorgeous black and white – and with a gorgeous set of bouncy tits somewhere in the middle of the movie –  with all of the movie’s budget clearly on the screen, Spielberg tells the tale of how Oscar Schindler (Liam Neeson), the Nazi with a soul, saved 200 Jews from the gas chambers.  Schindler’s foil is Amon Goeth (Ralph Fiennes), the evil, scary, “mwahahahaha”, Jew-killin’ super villain.  Stanley Kubrick complained that the movie focuses on the 200 Jews who were saved and not the 6,000,000 who were killed, but I think the real problem with the movie is that it’s basically a typical three act adventure story with every single Holocaust trope driven into your face for three obnoxious hours before it has an emotional orgasm of “I COULD HAVE SAVED MORE JEWS!!! I’M NOT AS GOOD AS I THOUGHT I WAS!!!  THIS IS THE PART OF THE MOVIE WHERE EVERYONE IS SUPPOSED TO HOLD EACH OTHER AND CRY!!!”  Of course, every tear jerking, white guilt fest needs to have its “crux” moment and, just like American History X had its curb stomping, Schindler’s List had the little girl wearing the red coat atop a pile of dead bodies.  That way you know, with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY, that the Nazis weren’t just bad; they were REALLY bad!

1.) Higher Learning (1995)

John Singleton started out okay with the 1991, “you killed mah BABY!!!”, ghetto drama, Boyz n the Hood, then followed with Poetic Justice, which I haven’t seen, but there’s a reason why Singleton was eventually forced to direct crap like 2 Fast 2 Furious or the Shaft remake, and I believe the problem starts with Higher Learning.  Basically Higher Learning is like a Spike Lee film for retards.  Like Lee’s films, it has a whole bunch of characters doing a bunch of stuff and then it somehow comes together in the end.  Unlike Lee’s films, the characters are one-dimensional caricatures, whose plot trajectories leave one with the basic conclusion that “whity iz the devil.”  I mean, Lee’s films do the same, but they, at least, seem deeper.

Higher Learning takes place at a university, hence the clever title, but all that is learned is that Ice Cube is an asshole, which is okay, because he’s black, and he bullies Michael Rapaport, who, after banging a Kristy Swanson, who cries “rape” in the middle of sex and then becomes a lesbian at the guidance of Jennifer Connelly, turns into a neo-Nazi at the guidance of Cole Hauser, and goes on a shooting spree at the end.  Omar Epps, Tyra Banks, Jason Wiles, Laurence Fishburn, Busta Rhymes and Adam Goldberg round out the cast.

The thugs beat up the Nazis of course, because blacks are the heroes and whites are not only the villains, but also don’t have enough “street” to know how to REALLY fight.  Adam Goldberg has a gun pointed in his face and jumps around and whimpers because Jews are pussies.  The other white guy, Jason Wiles isn’t bad, but he’s naive of the black situation, just like every well-meaning white guy.  And Tyra Banks gets shot at the end because someone needed to get shot by the evil, gun-toting neo-Nazi, so why not make it her?

 

 

Playlist 3/9/2016

Witchfinder General – Death Penalty
The Exploited – Singles Collection
Brainbombs – Obey
Minutemen – Double Nickels on the Dime
Helios Creed – On the Dark Side of the Sun
Fantomas – The Director’s Cut
Fantomas – Fantomas
Cryptic Slaughter – Convicted
Manilla Road – Open the Gates
Manilla Road – The Deluge
Manilla Road – Metal
Manilla Road – Invasion
Power of Zeus – The Gospel According to Zeus

How I Stopped Being an Elitist

sportsball_meme

I was a bit surprised when, in both Bernard Chapin’s video review and Matt Forney’s online review for Aaron Clarey’s latest book, The Curse of the High IQ, they mention how Clarey refers to sports entertainment as “sportsball”, a popular colloquialism that is typically used to describe sports as entertainment for the plebes.  I was under the impression a person like that would have a less cavalier attitude towards people who love sports and other popular entertainment, and that it is people on the left who judge people and call things “sportsball”; not to mention calling the people who enjoy it “dumb bros.”

Let’s get one thing straight; I may have tattoos, I may listen to weird underground music that nobody’s ever heard of, I may watch a bunch of cult films that nobody’s ever seen, but, when I go out, I would rather hang out at my local sports bar, watch sports on the TV, drink a stout, scarf down chicken wings and have said beer and wings served to me by a hot waitress, who wears black tights and a low cut tank top.  I’m over the era of my life where I want to sit in a dimly lit quasi dive populated by arty hipsters.  The fact that said bar will have a jukebox filled with the music of hip bands like Can, Captain Beefheart and the Fall DOES NOT MATTER to me AT ALL.  I literally DO NOT CARE if other people share my taste in music, and chances are these same people probably wouldn’t jam out to ZZ Top, Aerosmith, AC/DC, Ted Nugent, UFO, the Scorpions or Deep Purple, bands I like just as much as the approved “cool” bands in the post-punk, post-hardcore, kraut-rock and noisy indie rock genres.

Furthermore, I do not care if a girl I sleep with/date is a total “sportsball” loving, reality TV show watching bimbo, a military history buff who shoots guns, a tattooed metal chick with an Acid Bath patch on her denim vest or a glasses-wearing book nerd.  I’ve had all of these varieties and realized that the only things that matter to me are whether the girl is attractive and fun to be around.

So, where am I going with all of this?

I realize that, at age 31, I was smarter, cooler, funner and more accepting of people when I was in high school, than during my college years when, all of a sudden, I attempted to be an elite “cultured” person.

I was reading a negative review on Netflix of Luis Buñuel’s 1972 classic The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie and, while I believe whoever reviewed the film had the wrong idea that it was explicitly meant to diss the “bourgeoisie”, I believe that a good amount of younger people who are fans of the film believe that it is in fact supposed to be Buñuel’s “fuck you” to the rich, rather than just a charming series of surreal vignettes.

Y’see, arty hipstery people are leftists and they hate the rich, the 98%, yet, at the same time, fail to realize that the average working Joe would prefer to watch a super hero, CGI-filled Hollywood blockbuster rather than The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, and that, in effect, would make the very people leftists are allegedly trying to help the target of their ridicule; in other words, the rank ‘n’ file are all idiots who would rather watch that “sportsball”, yet we want to help them.

And, sadly, though I was never a full on leftist, I had a similar view of people who I went to college with that didn’t share my tastes; people who didn’t watch countless hours of films by Godard, Truffaut, Fellini, Tarkovsky, Passolini, Bergman, Herzog and Bresson or read thousands of pages of Faulkner, Hemmingway, Doestoevsky, Proust, Joyce, Camus or Balzac or didn’t spend thousands of hours filling their ears with the sounds of Can, Kraftwerk, Neu!, Faust, Public Image Ltd., the Fall, Devo, Miles Davis, the Birthday Party, Einstürzende Neubauten or Captain Beefheart (ya know, smart people music).

On top of that, I convinced myself that I had to date “smart”, arty hipster chicks who wore the black rim glasses, had a pixie cut and wore skinny jeans and T. Rex t-shirts.  I cannot believe how hot the girl I was dating back in 2007 was.  If I could turn back the hands of time and do it over again, I would have been waaay more grateful for what the arbiters of sex had given me; a hot, blonde, boob enhanced ex-stripper, who wore a super short, denim skirt that revealed killer, worked out legs to boot.  She had the comforting personality of a stripper, the kind where she puts her hand on your knee and leans in to talk to you, sending shivers up and down your spine even though she only means it as a friendly gesture most of the time.  And she was like the ultimate bedroom slut.  Without getting too graphic, virtually nothing was off limits.  And she was ready to bang ANY time!

But, at the time, I thought I was above dating a blonde, former stripper airhead – just so you get an idea of how much of an airhead she was, she did fill-in puzzles, crosswords puzzles where they just give you the words, in her spare time and virtually knew nothing about politics, history or what was going on in the world – so, I didn’t take it seriously, just biding my time, while secretly feeling I should be with that kinda cute, nerdy looking hipster chick.

BOY, would do that over!

And then, after I left school, I began to realize how stupid all of that was.  Well not right away; what really helped me realize that I was being an elitist mangina was when I lived with Chris in Ypsilanti.  He took being an elitist, hipster, feminist pandering mangina to whole new heights that I did not think were possible.  At an age where I decided that the Bergman and Fellini can rest alongside the John Carptenter and Wes Craven, that I can be a fan of Can and Public Image Ltd. along with Slayer and Metallica, Chris, who is several years older than me, would still make snarky comments about my musical taste and try really hard to appease some of the local feminist hipster bitches.  On top of that, he would try to make me look stupid for having a sex drive!  Once he was talking about going to a “burlesque” show, a form of entertainment that allows manginas to look at naked women with impunity, since there’s an “arty” context behind it; burlesque shows have old time-y clothes, old time-y jokes, old time-y music and the women do an old time-y strip tease, rather than the pole dancing and dick riding that goes on at Deja Vu’s.  I say to Chris, “oh cool, do we get to see Amy naked?” and he responds with, “you’re into that sorta thing, aren’t you?”  Like, aren’t you, dude?  Last time I checked you are a heterosexual?  I know this because I actually played matchmaker in one case.

But, I digress.  The point is that people like that make you realize how dumb it is to look down on people who have different tastes from you.  I actually respect people who can nerd out on sports statistics the way that I can nerd out on bands or movies.  Although I made the point in an another article that, given the law of large numbers, you should judge a book by its cover, you might be surprised by what different people can show or teach you if you have an open mind and quit judging people by their tastes in music, movies, literature, women or their love for “sportsball.”

 

Maybe Women Just Aren’t That Into Metal

nita_strauss

Nope, not thinking about how she looks at all!  Totally just admiring the playing of Alice Cooper’s guitarist, Ms. Nita Strauss!

What do comic books, science fiction, roll playing games, anime, video games and heavy metal all have in common?  Think really hard about it.  So, where most intelligent people, I would think accept the fact that men will outnumber women in all of these nerd intensive hobbies by default, there will still be that Social Justice parasite, that interloper that exists for the sole purpose of ruining the fun and joy that these things bring by accusing their practitioners of not being inclusive enough.

I stumbled upon this article titled “Metal’s Problem with Women Is Not Going Away Anytime Soon“, written by a Kristy Loye for the Houston Press.  With her obviously lazy research and her almost entirely complete lack of knowledge or insight, she levies some strong accusations against the metal genre and the people who listen to it.

In the article she concludes that:

Many bands either openly encourage violence against women or fail to support legitimate female fandom, but it certainly doesn’t end there. Female metal bands are rarely booked on national tours and practically ignored by the media — and worse, the ones who make it that far get ridiculed or sexualized.

In other words, as of November 11, 2015, according to the article, metal has their proverbial Jodi Fosters up against the pinball machines.  Now, how much does the article reflect reality?  Before one even gets to the actual article, there is a picture of a band called Halestrom, who feature three faggy looking guys with nice, swooping hair cuts and a hot broad with fantastic legs, wearing those hot patterned tights that do wonders for my libido.  Beneath the picture, the caption reads: “Question: how many metal bands featuring female members — besides Halestorm, shown above — can you name?”

Let’s see.  I can name Girlschool, Rock Goddess, Bitch, Bolt Thrower, White Zombie, Blood Ceremony, Kylesa, Electric Wizard, Acid King, Arch Enemy, Huntress, Demonic Christ, Triptykon, Nashville Pussy, Jucifer, Madam X, Lita Ford and, if we want to plumb the depths of shittyness, we can even dredge up nu-metal bands like Kittie and Otep just to prove this point.  But, what point are we trying to prove?  That metal music doesn’t have enough women participating in its creation?  That this in and of itself is some sort of indication that the metal genre, as a whole, is deliberately trying to keep women out?

She then continues with this “observation”:

Even metal fandom is exclusive. Women who are metal fans come under the constant scrutiny of male metal fans, and have their motives questioned. They’re either assumed to be a poser or a girlfriend, no more than a fan by association. Often they must prove their fandom to suspicious men who require authenticity. Ridiculous.

Is that how it is?  Because, this very weekend, I was at the mighty Detroit metal/hardcore/noise/whatever festival called Berserker fest, which a.) was run by Child Bite singer Shawn Knight and his wife Veronica, b.) had plenty of women at the gig, c.) had no instances that I recall where men accused women of not being “legit” and d.) involved me partying and drinking with two metal loving women, my friend Wendy and the mighty Dawnowar, former fan club operator for Manowar.  And if there’s one band a person can claim to be blatantly sexist, it’s them.  According to Dawnowar, her experience working with Manowar might have involved quite a bit of assholishness on the part of embarrassingly not-self aware bassist/spokesman Joey Demaio, but sexism and sexual harassment were not part of her experience.  And we’re talking about the band who wrote this song:

But, assuming that is the case, where women are scrutinized more heavily to see if they’re truly part of the club or not, that’s par for the course.  Metal – and we’re talking the more extreme side of metal, not mainstream hard rock bands like Def Leppard or Motley Crue – is an outsider form of music.  Outsider music, art and hobbies always attract more men than women.  Studies show this.  In fact, you’re more likely to find women who listen to extreme metal than who like the confusing, often messy sounding jazz-fusion noodlings of Frank Zappa or Captain Beefheart.  Sure, you will find women who are into these things, but, if we’re going by the law of large numbers, it’s not as likely.

Then of course the author brings up the obligatory “objectification” argument:

For many years, metal’s message to women has been one of assignment: you can be a groupie, but not a fan or serious musician. It has failed to support women in any capacity besides as live props — objects, not subjects. It’s also guilty of encouraging a Hooters-like, bikini-model, stripper-girl atmosphere in general.

Maybe that attitude was more prevalent among glam metal musicians, so she’s not even really attacking her intended target, since anyone can attest that none of what she described happens at thrash, death, doom or black metal concerts (I wish it did, though!), but, if they did, there’s two things to say about this. 1.) When women decide to strip onstage or expose their breasts while perched atop their boyfriends’ shoulders in the audience, that is their decision; the band doesn’t make them do this.  In fact, a member of the Scorpions said that it is only in North America where this occurs.  On top of that, the groupie phenomenon is another example of the genetic differences between men and women.  Women who become groupies want to be groupies.  Popularity makes a man more desirable; or as Paul Stanley of Kiss once said, “we can do in one evening what several men spend weeks or months trying to accomplish.”  But, 2.) that “objectification” alone never prevented women from participating in music.  Lemmy, the biggest hornball of them all, still backed all girl band Girlschool simply because he liked them.  While, there aren’t many women in hard rock and heavy metal dating back to the 70s, except for maybe Heart, there has been considerably more involvement since then, and I still put the onus of becoming a musician and being in a band strictly on the women.

She continues with more tripe about female bands not headlining festivals and male fans not cheering for women.  Again, while the former is true; not many women headline metal festivals, it’s not out of some alleged discrimination; there just aren’t that many female musicians in metal and no festival promoter is going to top bill a band just to fill an affirmative action quota.  As for the second case, get over it; men cheer for bands they like regardless of the genitalia of the members.  If the members are attractive, then it’s a bonus.

And then comes the argument of the lyrics, which allegedly promote rape and violence towards women.  She makes some reasonable observations, siting some pretty damn violent lyrics by Cannibal Corpse.  But, does the band harbor an anti-woman agenda?  Are they trying to get their fans to rape and murder women?  Hardly.  I saw Cannibal Corpse once and singer George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher said onstage, “this one’s for all the ladies, it’s called ‘FUCKED… WITH… A… KNIFE!!!'”  Did the male audience members start fucking all of the women with knives?  No.  Did women feel that the male audience members would go and fuck them with knives in the parking lot?  No.  Has “Fucked with a Knife” by Cannibal Corpse led to a rise in husbands fucking all of their wives with knives?  No.  I maintain, that if you’re offended by what you hear, then don’t listen.

But, because the author of the article isn’t even good at cherry picking her “evidence” of a prevailing anti-female lyrical trend – I can find a few more examples of anti-female attitudes from metal bands, like the above Manowar song or just instances of violence towards women, such as in the rape themed, “Sex, Murder, Art” by Slayer – she sites the profanity free, PG-13 lyrics of Alice Cooper?!

The problem is nobody is taking offense to these violent lyrical themes. And if they are, they’re not speaking up about it. Alice Cooper was once quoted as saying, “There’s more blood in Macbeth than in my shows, and that’s required school reading.”

Yet there’s a stark contrast between the macabre theatrics of Cooper’s guillotine and lyrics that detail physically ripping open a woman through forced sexual contact and watching her die as a result. And even if Macbeth was bloody, it was a statement on the will to power and the attraction to corruption…and did Alice Cooper just compare himself to Shakespeare?

This last part about “forced sexual contact” is a lie.  The woman was dead for crying out loud!  And, on top of that, the theatrical piece was set to “Cold Ethyl”, a song about fucking a corpse.  So, if anything, her beef should be that Alice is promoting necrophilia!  But, on top of that, she has to throw in some slick, snarky condescension.  Alice indeed compared his show to Shakespeare, which was the popular entertainment of the Elizabethan era, and also featured some tasteless humor.  Alice has also been praised by Bob Dylan as an underrated songwriter, so you can take your “intellectual” credentials and shove ’em up yer arse!

Ah, but there’s hope after all!

Believe it or not, some bands do self-correct. Some men will stand up for women and understand that women can be equal partners in artistic expression, even in death metal. We love those men.

Speaking to Andy Marsh, guitarist for Thy Art Is Murder, he makes no attempts at backpedaling or defending the lyrical content of his band’s 2008 release, Infinite Death, which contains lyrics like, “I’m inflicting bloodshed upon bitches/ just because I hate the female race…women were born to be fucked.” In fact, he agrees they were abhorrent, and his level of discomfort with the band’s previous sexism was apparent.

Abhorrent?  How about just retarded?  But, feel free to “self-correct.”  Your lyrics will emancipate all of the women from this awful patriarchal society, in which women have their clits cut and are forced to wear burqas.

Even Whitechapel, due at Houston’s Scout Bar next Monday, has followed suit. The band responsible for such lyrics as “I ripped her fucking limb from limb,” from 2006 LP Somatic Defilement (“Vicer Exciser”), has now turned away from misogynistic lyrical content. It wasn’t easy move for a band named after the area of London where Jack the Ripper murdered at least five women, but the band felt it was a necessary move. (Right on.)

Right on!  Don’t ever sing about anything unless someone with a vagina approves of it.  You will be re-educated to think like them and they will arbitrate the correct things to sing about.

Metal is not alone in its ostracism of women — its close cousin, punk rock, was completely revamped 20 years ago. Back in the ’90s, female punk fans and musicians are credited for riding the third wave of feminism and forming their very own subgenre, Riot Grrrl, with bands like Bikini Kill, Bratmobile and L7, a spirit that even surfaced in Russia a generation later with the rise of Pussy Riot. When those women wanted opportunities in the punk scene that didn’t already exist, they simply created them. Yet even that scene wasn’t created in a vacuum.

This paragraph is a complete lie and further exemplifies the ignorance of the author.  Punk rock NEVER ostracized women and, since the mid ’70s, had more women involved than metal on both of sides of the Atlantic; Siouxsie and the Banshees, X-Ray Spex, the Adverts, the Rezillos, the Slits, Vice Squad, Penetration, the Runaways, Blondie, Patti Smith, X, the Germs, the Avengers and the Bags are just a few examples; those don’t even count New York noise rockers like Sonic Youth, Pussy Galore or Boss Hog.  Hell, if she wants to find the roots of all this turbo-slut, sex-positive feminist nonsense, she would do well to look up Lydia Lunch, the adorable looking, yet repulsively acting singer for Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.  The fact that the author makes such an audacious claim, yet doesn’t even know some of the bands I mentioned, makes me wonder if she even listens to music or if she’s just trying to ruin things with her Social Justice agenda.

And, in the final section of the piece, she mentions… ugh, War on Women.

It’s not just women who need to fight misogyny in music. War On Women’s Shawna Potter encourages men to take up the battle as well.

“While women [with people of color and the LGBQT community] must fight for our rights and humanity, men must also fight,” she says. “They must [fight] against the insulting notion that they are animals have no self-control. But first, they must see it as insulting, I suppose.

So that’s the name of the hot singer for War on Women, whose gyrations made me tight in the pants.

 

 

 

Why Are Annoying Feminist Bands Not Allowed to Have Tomatoes Thrown at Them?

WaronWomen1CarlPocket

When I see the singer for the Baltimore based, feminist punk band War on Women (good fucking god), I don’t think about “smashing the patriarchy”, I think about smashing between the sheets.  Aside from those stupid, “tough grrrl” faces she makes, she’s got a good figure and made the smart choice of not doing her hair up in a punky style, letting it go all flowing and wavy. One would think a feminist punk band called War on Women would be some sort of parody, but this proselytizing, subtle as a sledge hammer nonsense is the real deal.  Watch this.

God, look at the leggings on that slut on the left.  And look at that all male rhythm section passionately bashing out a generic 4/4 pattern over which these sexy, young lasses can yell out their female rage.

Now, look, I’m all for the XX’s picking up the geetarz and bashing and smashing away just like the dudes do – I’m a fan of Girlschool, White Zombie, X-Ray Spex, the Slits, the Fall, Sonic Youth (even though their lyrics are retarded), the Adverts and the Rezillos, bands I listen to because of their music and not because of the genitalia of one or all of their members – but, once again, as the underground scene becomes more and more indoctrinated in Cultural Marxist, politically correct nonsense, the more we’re going to see bands like this who are “smashing” an imaginary patriarchy, when, in actuality, they’ve got Beta male orbiters just pining for their attention and white knights ready to protect them from “unwanted advances” at the drop of a hat.  In a scene that’s still dominated by men, being a woman, especially one that look like the ones pictured above, gives you unprecedented levels of control over the dicks of the men involved.

All that would be fine if they were just bloody honest about it!  Instead we get bogus articles such as this one from Bitchfork about the alleged “misogyny” in noise rock, singling out the band Rectal Hygienics, who I actually saw last night at Berserker Fest in Detroit.  I tend not to take an article seriously when it includes a line like this one:

As a person living in a genderfucked body that was assigned female identity at birth and has been mostly read as female by society since, Rectal Hygenics’ lyrics are exhausting and painful in a very visceral way.

Poor baby being born a WOMAN in a Western country where you don’t have to worry about having your clitoris cut, being forced to wear a burqa or becoming the victim of an honor killing.  She makes passing references to “Prayer to God” by Shellac and “No Pussy Blues” by Grinderman and acts as if respective singers Steve Albini and Nick Cave are doing something other than singing about praying to God that someone will kill his lying, cheating whore wife and her lover and the blues because he ain’t gettin’ no pussy. She then goes on to quote the “offending” lyrics of Rectal Hygienics:

“Spoiled fuck machine/ Think you’re on easy street/ You’re a slave to man and what he puts inside of you/ Stinking pack mule/ You smell like shit,”

Now these lyrics aren’t in the best of taste and I don’t know if they’re supposed to be for shock value or have a message or, in fact, even be understood at all because, when I saw them last night, I didn’t even hear lyrics; in fact, the singer wasn’t even facing the audience.  All I heard for 30 minutes was “vrrrrroooossshhh” and “pound, pound, pound.”  She does get one thing right though; they do seem like a blatant rip-off of tasteless Swedish noise rock gods, Brainbombs, who stole all of their lyrics from sick and tasteless “transgressive” shock writer Peter Sotos.  But that’s all besides the point.  Why shouldn’t “misogynistic” lyrics be allowed?  If she really stands by the mantra of “freedom of speech is not freedom from criticism”, then why is she trying to be the arbiter of what messages are “acceptable” in any genre of music?  Besides, what could she possibly have to complain about when she’s got a mangina band like Pissed Jeans emasculating themselves in the song “Male Gaze“?

it’s when a smile becomes a stare and it starts to burn
it’s when you ask him to knock it off and he doesn’t learn
the sad routine doesn’t change if he’s broke or a millionaire
there’s no getting through, that’s how it is
he’s never had to care
it’s when you’re judged before you even get to speak a word
it’s when you make the smartest point and it goes unheard
i’m not innocent – i’m guilty
i’m not innocent – but i’m sorry
it’s just the male gaze – it’s in me i know it
i feel it all around me – i wish i could destroy it
yeah it’s the male gaze – i’ve had it forever

Whoopdy-fuckin’-do!  Men look at women when they’re attractive!  Thanks for putting down your hammer on 100,000 years of evolutionary biology, ding bat!  On the other hand, Pissed Jeans is a solid AmRep revival band and I enjoyed seeing ’em live.  There was this super cute red head with glasses at the show in Detroit, but I was too much of a chicken to talk to her even though we shared a moment, making eye-contact, air guitaring and drumming in sync.  Chances are she probably would have accused me of trying to rape her if I talked to her, though.

But, at the end of the day, there is no “war on women.”  If you’re young and attractive and live in a Western country, the world is your oyster; if you don’t make stupid decisions, there is literally nothing easier than being a woman in Western society.  As Iggy Pop pointed out in “You’re Pretty Face Is Going to Hell”, you won’t be young and attractive forever, so, instead of complaining about how it’s a burden on your existence, why don’t you celebrate your privilege and sing about cool stuff like death and Satan?

She asks, “Are we supposed to sit back an [sic] appreciate this as ‘art’ for ‘art’s sake’?”  You’re not supposed to do anything.  In the words of Alice Cooper, “you are the only censor. If you don’t like what I’m saying, you can turn me off.”

And, for the guys, grow a pair and throw on Blood, Guts & Pussy by the Dwarves!

The Heavy Metal White Guilt Blame Game

phil_anselmoI was never an Anthrax fan.  Lord knows I’ve tried to like ’em because they sing about Judge Dredd and they had Mort Drucker from Mad magazine illustrate the back cover for their 1988 LP State of Euphoria.  But now I’m done with it.  Bald, goatee wearing, Jewish guitarist Scott Ian pretty much took the cake with his stupidity.  No, I’m not talking about how he’s a Bernie Sanders supporter “In spite how it’s throwing my vote away.”  I’m talking about his recent comment where he feels that former Pantera singer and fellow baldy Phil Anselmo should donate to the Simon Weisenthal Center to show he’s “sincerely sorry” (the article primarily features quotes from another goatee wearing baldy, guitarist Kerry King of Slayer, but Ian’s pathetic comments are at the end) for shouting “white power” and doing a Hitler salute at the end of the set at the latest Dimebash performance.

Now, in my humble opinion, doing a Hitler salute completely out of context in front of people you don’t know, many of whom may be of a darker skin tone, is a pretty boneheaded move.  Nobody is going to dispute that.  But, when you release a video such as the one below, where you’re practically groveling in the dirt and one step above kissing the boot of a black man in prison who is shouting, “who’s your daddy?” before bending you over as you shout “I deserve this!  I fucking deserve this!”, I think the matter should be completely forgotten.  I dunno, you be the judge:

Now, before I go on and continue to make my point about how stupid Scott Ian’s comments were, just take a look at this video.

Real great, huh?  Anthrax, the good time, non-serious, always smiling, party thrash band, shows that they’re ahead of the curve, they’re beyond mere political correctness, they’re so against racism, they’ll do a crossover music video with a notoriously racist and anti-semitic rap group called Public Enemy.  What’s that you say?  Public Enemy isn’t racist or anti-semitic; only Professor Griff is and they duly kicked him out?  Well, then why in the fucking hell is PE’s main man Chuck D singing “Farrakhan’s a prophet and I think you ought to listen to/What he can say to you, what you wanna do is follow for now”?  And yes, we’re talking Louis Farrakhan, the leader of the Black Nationalist hate group, the Nation of Islam, who have nary a nice thing to say about white people and especially Jewish people.

Only the leftest of leftists will contest that it’s not a double standard that, if a white band were to sing “David Duke’s a prophet and I think you ought to listen to/What he can say to you, what you wanna do is follow for now”, that white band would look like this:

Catchy tune, eh?  Eh, not really.  I know some people who like this band in spite what they sing about, but I think they’re pretty lousy.  That’s not the point though.  The point is that, without a doubt, there’s a double standard, where someone like Ice Cube can get away with singing “Or your little chop suey ass’ll be a target of the nationwide boycott/Juice with the people, that’s what the boy got/So pay respect to the black fist/or we’ll burn your store, right down to a crisp” or Beyonce can perform at the Superbowl with women dressed like Black Panthers and only a few inquisitive pundits will ask,”but why is one okay and not the other?”

So, that brings us back to Scott Ian and metal in general.  Either Scott Ian is ignorant of who Louis Farrakhan is or he felt that, for a black group, it’s perfectly acceptable to praise anti-white bigots because like the system’s all rigged against them and shit.  Underground music has been getting lefter and lefter.  Whereas punk rock in the 70s and 80s had a few leftist bands that yelled the loudest and were the most popular (actually that’s not entirely true.  The Ramones, Black Flag and Minor Threat are apolitical for the most part, but the Clash introduced Marxist concepts into punk, Crass introduced “anarchism” and the Dead Kennedys were the Jon Stewarts of punk), leftist influence has pretty much dominated the genre in varying degrees, and, since many a punk people now want to enter the field of metal and spread messages of “Social Justice”, the metal scene has also been progressively moving into the realm of political correctness.

I’m a music fan, so I really don’t have the whole Metalgate beef with a band like Cattle Decapitation singing their pro-vegan screed, especially when you can’t even really understand what they’re saying.  What I DO have a problem with is someone like Scott Ian becoming the arbiter of morality and trying to guilt trip Phil Anselmo even more than Anselmo has guilt tripped himself.  For the record, I’m not a Pantera fan as their brand of “groove thrash” and Anselmo’s tough guy, Henry Rollins-esque delivery never really appealed to me, but I respect Anselmo a WHOLE heck of a lot for launching the Housecore label and signing weirdo bands like Author & Punisher and Child Bite, for bringing completely non-commercial underground bands like Neurosis, Morbid Angel and Anal Cunt on tour with them so they could play in front of tens of thousands of people and for spending his hard earned cash on the Housecore music and film festival, giving wider exposure to underground artists and bands.  For crying out loud, he got Goblin, the Italian prog band who did the soundtracks for Suspiria and Dawn of the Dead, into North America!  He should be given some sort of award for that alone!

Now look, I’m no psychic, so I can’t get into Phil Anselmo’s brain and see if he’s truly sorry or if he’s truly “racist” and I really don’t think it matters.  The fact is, he clearly doesn’t want to destroy what he’s worked for for nearly three decades, because, if he did, there IS a fringe industry of white power labels like Resistance who would LOVE to have an endorsement from someone as well known as Phil Anselmo.  The point is that we’ve come so far down this path, that we forget that Tommy Lee went to jail for beating his wife, Ozzy Osbourne the same, that Vince Neill drove drunk and murdered Razzel, the drummer of Hanoi Rocks, that Gene Simmons has pumped and dumped 4,000+ different women without so much as a thought about how it might affect the young lasses’ psyche, that so many musicians have fathered illegitimate children, overdosed on heroin or spread HIV, yet the only thing that really enrages people is the thought that someone might cross that proverbial line of being a “racist.”  Oh, I guess people were pretty outraged over Garry Glittler’s child porn collection, but, even listening to his music is more acceptable than listening to the first Skrewdriver album, the one that doesn’t have any racist lyrics on it.

Now I’m signing out and going back to listening to Manilla Road, reading my Conan books and heading out for night three of Berserker fest.  Cheers and please watch this video from Some Black Guy where he condemns Anselmo’s actions while also completely disputing the concept of “white privilege” in our society.  Good man!

 

Am I Turned on by Fat Women?

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Vs.

.fat_woman

In the globalist/leftist/elitist bid to teach women that all bodies are good by pushing “body positivity” so that men are forced to lower their standards or drop out of the mating game altogether, I have to ask myself if I’m actually attracted to thicker/bigger/fatter women.  My penis, not the media, decides what I’m attracted to, so I decided to compare my best sexual experience with my absolute worst.

My best sexual experience is also debatable.  If we’re going by quality and uniqueness, then I’d say either my ex Melissa, who cheated on me with the Gwar singer backstage at the show at Harpos in ’04 (And, because Dave “Oderus Urungus” Brockie was possibly the least classy man in the entire punk/metal/whatever scene, he had the nerve to write a song about it!  Some of my friends try to deny me the glory, but I maintain to this day that the 2nd and 3rd verses of “The Ultimate Bohab” are at least partly about me, you jealous fux!) – man, if she used her brain like she uses her ass… – or Theresa, the white trash Marilyn Manson loving goth skank, who was 34 when we slept together in a hotel room after the Mastadon/Ghost/Opeth gig four years ago; she gave me probably the best blowjob I’d ever had.  Unlike most girls who don’t understand the concept of keeping a good rhythm or think that aggressively going up and down on the penis as if their mouths are lubed up vacuum cleaner tubes equals good oral sex, she managed to have the right combination of shaft pumping and tongue massaging until I felt myself erupt like a geyser after which, she jumped back after the first couple of squirts to admire her work, as each subsequent shot of semen fired out my urethra like bullets out of an AK-47.  Theresa was thin with a bit of curvature and some over the hill stomach flab.  I could have easily gone for another round of that, but the bitch ditched me the following week after inviting me out to Detroit’s gay goth dance club, Leland City Club.

But, I digress.  If we’re going by quantity, that is a man’s animal-like drive to want to fuck merely minutes after the previous session – sorry girls, the session ends when the guy blows his load, but most of you probably already knew that – then, I’d bestow that award onto Nikki, who would easily fall into the overweight category on the BMI chart.

We met on OKCupid, set up a date for a Friday, met and she definitely had a double chin regardless of how darn cute/pretty she was.  However, this didn’t bother at all when I saw what came with the double chin.  She dressed in the slutty rock ‘n’ roll attire, wrapping her dual basketball size ass in tight black leggings, wearing spike covered high heels and, in spite wearing a t-shirt, barely concealed her football size tits.  Plus she wore glasses and had a Canadian accent, so that was kinda cute as well.

After I got us duly wasted, I drove (real smart move, man) to a hotel and, while we were a bit drunk that night and only managed to get one fuck in, that morning was a marathon session.  I awoke naked next to this adorable person, who was curled up in a ball and also waking up, and while her enormous tits were staring at me, the first thing she said was, “I love waking up next to a horny boy.”  We did it over and over again, mainly dog style because I have the black man’s taste in big booty, and still had the double bonus of admiring her boobs from the side, which made me even more horny as I fiercely pumped away.  The fact that she had a little belly fat was not an issue, and to be perfectly honest, I prefer looser, flabby stomachs over tone ones.  I totally could have gone for another round of that as well.  It also didn’t hurt that she described the time she scissored with her roommate; that one still gives me wood when I mull it over in my brain.  Unfortunately that would be our only encounter because she didn’t like the idea of my not being legally able to drive into Windsor on account of my DUI (don’t drink and drive, kids).

So, does this alone make me a fan of fat women?  Do I have some secret fetish?  Am I secretly shilling for big brother and trying to convince guys that all women are attractive?

No, no and no!  I am NOT a fan of fat women.  I’m a fan of curvy, pear shaped women, whose genetics dictate that they have narrower shoulders, wider hips and their fat accumulates in the ass and thigh area.  Usually pear shaped women have smaller breasts, but Nikki just lucked out that the gods gave her such huge boobs.  Don’t ask me why I like looser stomachs; in proportion I find them cute and, personally I find them more feminine than overly toned stomachs.  Ladies, focus on the squats; you can do crunches, but not too many.  Oh, this also reminds me of why, in most cases, I’m for breast augmentation.  That means that, in the bidding war of genetics, women were given the pear shape and a smaller chest, which is fine.  I don’t like it the other way around where a girl is super top heavy and has no ass.

But, back to the point.  To prove my point that I don’t like fat women, I’m going to now tell about my worst sexual experience.  I was friends with a hickish beast named Jessica.  I hadn’t seen her in years, but we got to talking and messaging a lot.  Her FB pictures obscured the fact that she is possibly one of the least attractive women I have ever known; when she said she was “chubby”, I thought she meant a few pounds past curvy, but oooh no; she has an apple shape body, a type that absolutely cannot afford to let even a few pounds slip.  Her entire love life is a metaphor for political correctness; whenever there’s a problem, such as the black population’s failure to leave the ghettos, the left will find every reason imaginable except for the main one.  Similarly, when Jessica asks why all the skinny guys she likes “date” her for a day and then “disappear”, I just didn’t have the heart to tell her it’s because she looks like a blob set atop two drum sticks; I usually hem and haw before defaulting to the typical, “I don’t know, guys are weird.”

And I know what you’re going to say; “are you that stupid where you didn’t realize she wanted to start a romantic relationship with you?”  Well, I’m not, I just, once again, didn’t know how to politely back away.  So, in what I consider a purely selfless act, I bang her in a motel room (noting a pattern here?).  To a man, it was the most nauseating experience I’ve ever had with a woman.  She too has huge tits… and a huge belly and a huge pregnancy induced underbelly and narrow hips and no ass to balance any of this out.  I got on top of her, we fucked, but I didn’t cum at all.  She laid back with her eyes shut, resembling a grandma falling asleep in her reading chair, except that she had those huge boobs, which were no consolation for the horror beneath.  After we were “done”, she got up and, out of sheer, morbid curiosity I peaked at what I had just done.  Needless to say that, when she came back, I got up, went to the restroom and re-calibrated my brain by thinking of attractive women while jerking off.

Unlike the other guys that pumped and dumped her, we remained friends (until she unfriended me on FB for not being a Sanders supporter) and I even came back to Grand Rapids to meet up with her and see Weedeater.  I brought my sleazy friend Ian, and thankfully he took one for the team by fucking her while I was drunkenly passed out on the bed at the motel room we stayed at after the gig. Prior to this she got angry with me that I didn’t tell her I started seeing someone as if we were ever together.  She was still mad the next day!  I don’t get it!  She had two skinny guys give her a decent-ish roll in the hay within a two week period!  What else could she possibly want?

Anyway, the point of all this is to show that all this “body positivity” nonsense is a crock.  Rather than just teach women to be healthy, eat right and exercise, while, at the same time, maybe discuss how some men prefer different sizes within an acceptable range, rags like Huffington Post encourage obesity.  Rather than point out, as many scientific and health journals do, that, for each body type (pear, apple), there are different styles of eating, dressing and exercise to remain thin and healthy, they print nauseating articles that show skinny dudes with gross ass women and claim that “everyone is beautiful.”  Well, they’re not, so live with it.