One Last Pop Music Observation
I'm tired of hearing about Johnny Cash, and I'm sure you're tired of hearing about The Hold Steady. It's all good shit. Let's not ruin it for everyone by overanalyzing it. So I'll shut up now and go back to my shack and write another manifesto.
TLMIMHIP: "Where the Hell is Bill?" Camper Van Beethoven
TLMIMHIP: "Where the Hell is Bill?" Camper Van Beethoven
Another Pop Music Observation
In all the attention being giving to the late great Johnny Cash with the recent release of Walk the Line, I've noticed that none of the usual nanny state types like Tipper or Falwell are harping about his lyrics which include as many references to drugs, murder and fornication as any hardcore hip hop act. Again, draw your own conclusions.
TLMIMHIP: "Sixteen Tons" Ernie Ford, still.
TLMIMHIP: "Sixteen Tons" Ernie Ford, still.
Pop Music Observation
It is my estimation that the top five names mentioned in popular music lyrics are respectively God, the Devil/Satan, Mary, Jesus/Christ, and Superman. Draw your own conculsions.
TLMIMHIP: "Sixteen Tons" Ernie Ford
TLMIMHIP: "Sixteen Tons" Ernie Ford
Monday, November 28, 2005
Good Mood
The fresh snow this morning changed everything, so I’m not feeling like such a cynical bastard today. Instead I’m feeling like a sentimental bastard. So you might want to stop reading right now.
A message I received this weekend got me thinking about teenage spring days and lost love. But not in a regretful way, just a good-ole-days way. Well I gotta put a stop to that shit before I start thinking about all the stupid shit I did and said back then. Even stupider than the shit I do and say now if you can believe it. Anyway, life is pretty sweet. So everything that led up to this point can’t be so bad, can it? I’ve got a nice little house, a cool wife, a great kid, a good job, some excellent loyal friends, and my birthday is next week. What more could I want? I’m one happy Transexual Scandinavian.
TLMIMHIP: “Banging Camp” by my new MySpace friends The Hold Steady. How cool am I? Don’t answer that.
There. That’s as close as I’m getting to holiday cheer. Now fuck off.
A message I received this weekend got me thinking about teenage spring days and lost love. But not in a regretful way, just a good-ole-days way. Well I gotta put a stop to that shit before I start thinking about all the stupid shit I did and said back then. Even stupider than the shit I do and say now if you can believe it. Anyway, life is pretty sweet. So everything that led up to this point can’t be so bad, can it? I’ve got a nice little house, a cool wife, a great kid, a good job, some excellent loyal friends, and my birthday is next week. What more could I want? I’m one happy Transexual Scandinavian.
TLMIMHIP: “Banging Camp” by my new MySpace friends The Hold Steady. How cool am I? Don’t answer that.
There. That’s as close as I’m getting to holiday cheer. Now fuck off.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Kewl
Britt is back and blogging like a mofo. I'm one happy douche.
TLMIMHIP: "It's a Livin' Thing" ELO. Kill me now.
TLMIMHIP: "It's a Livin' Thing" ELO. Kill me now.
I Give Up
Fuck it people. You know what? When you act like this it makes me rethink my opposition to the whole imperial tyranny thing. Maybe you all just deserve it. Fucking cattle. All this shit will not fill the hole inside you. Seriously, does this woman look happy?
TLMIMHIP: "I Started a Joke" Bee Gees
TLMIMHIP: "I Started a Joke" Bee Gees
Friday, November 25, 2005
Buy Nothing Day
I didn't enter a single retail establishment today, despite the lure of cheap MP3 players. I didn't even go up to the Long Ear to pick up my copy of The Hold Steady Almost Killed Me I ordered. I suppose being broke and stoned on turkey helped a bit.
TLMIMHIP: "Sensitive Artist" King Missile
TLMIMHIP: "Sensitive Artist" King Missile
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Last Christmas Truce Soldier Dies
For a brief moment in history, these soldiers stopped listening to their politicians and took part in an act of brotherhood and love for their fellow man. Fortunately, their wise rulers didn't put up with any more of that shit, and the war was a rousing success, ushering in an era of peace and liberty to the former battlegrounds of Europe, Africa and the Middle-East which endures to this day. Err, no? ...It was the next war, right? Umm... How about the one after that? Well, shit, it's gotta work one of these times. It has to eventually. I mean, that's what they keep telling us.
Maybe if you keep bashing your skull against that wall your headache will go away.
The little man in my head is playing: "Cattle & the Creeping Things" - The Hold Steady. Sounds like road tripping music. Couple that with reading the manuscript for Black Whole Son(NSFW), and I think the synchronicity can't be denied.
Maybe if you keep bashing your skull against that wall your headache will go away.
The little man in my head is playing: "Cattle & the Creeping Things" - The Hold Steady. Sounds like road tripping music. Couple that with reading the manuscript for Black Whole Son(NSFW), and I think the synchronicity can't be denied.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Bzzzzzzzz
One of my clients is an educational institution (yeah, I'm working for a government entity, you better take away my anarchy card). In their latest newsletter they tried to explain recent cost overruns (not on my projects) on the "among other things, China's voracious appetite for raw materials." Gee those evil Chinese, they must be using all those resources to bind feet and build a wall to keep out the Mongols again. No they're building factories and office buildings to make crap for Americans. Meanwhile Americans are borrowing back the money they already spent to buy more shit, and the Feds are printing bonds like they are windshield flyers. Bloody Hell! Fucking Politicians! Stop blaming feriners for inflation. Tell the damn taxpayers to stop buying so much shit and live with in their means, and maybe they'll be able to afford to educate their friggin kids. Yeah, if a politician ever said that I might actually consider falling off the wagon and voting again. Naah, that ain't gonna happen.
I got my melon clippered so now I'm sporting a poseur fauxhawk. I spiked up my boy's hair too, and we danced around to punk rock tonight. He's one hardcore 11-month-old. Fuck yeah!
Kudos to Jake for finishing his book about sex, drugs, sex, motorcycles, and I think sex.
Also, good juju to Sirkus registering for classes. PSU has a new smart badass hottie on campus.
The little man in my head is playing: "Certain Songs" - The Hold Steady. They make me miss the Twin Cities scene, not that I was ever much of a scenester. Although it's telling that they don't live there anymore either. The state motto ought to be "Minnesota, It's a great place to be from."
I got my melon clippered so now I'm sporting a poseur fauxhawk. I spiked up my boy's hair too, and we danced around to punk rock tonight. He's one hardcore 11-month-old. Fuck yeah!
Kudos to Jake for finishing his book about sex, drugs, sex, motorcycles, and I think sex.
Also, good juju to Sirkus registering for classes. PSU has a new smart badass hottie on campus.
The little man in my head is playing: "Certain Songs" - The Hold Steady. They make me miss the Twin Cities scene, not that I was ever much of a scenester. Although it's telling that they don't live there anymore either. The state motto ought to be "Minnesota, It's a great place to be from."
Friday, November 18, 2005
Prediction
This is related to the previous post but is less of a diatribe. Again, it is not intended as an endorsement of any party, person or policy. Fuck 'em all.
The end of popular support for the war in Iraq is in nigh. The power brokers can see the writing on the wall. Never fear, they will find a way to continue bilking you. Another boondoggle is right upon its heels. The American government will institute a national health system. Now before some of you get all excited up about this, be forewarned. The recent expansion of Medicare illustrates the forces at work. The fact is that people want guaranteed healthcare, but the healthcare lobby will not allow it if it cuts into their bottom line. However as much as the corporatist love to talk about the free market, they will have no problem participating in an expansion of the socialist state so long as they get to belly up to the trough at the taxpayers’ expense.
TLMIMHICP: "Legionare's Lament" Same group, same album, same opinion.
The end of popular support for the war in Iraq is in nigh. The power brokers can see the writing on the wall. Never fear, they will find a way to continue bilking you. Another boondoggle is right upon its heels. The American government will institute a national health system. Now before some of you get all excited up about this, be forewarned. The recent expansion of Medicare illustrates the forces at work. The fact is that people want guaranteed healthcare, but the healthcare lobby will not allow it if it cuts into their bottom line. However as much as the corporatist love to talk about the free market, they will have no problem participating in an expansion of the socialist state so long as they get to belly up to the trough at the taxpayers’ expense.
TLMIMHICP: "Legionare's Lament" Same group, same album, same opinion.
Pendulum
It has been with great amusement that I’m watching the implosion of the current junta which rules a portion of this continent roughly bordered by the Rio Grande and the 49th parallel as well as other regions scattered across the globe. What makes it doubly entertaining is the inevitability of the situation. Any idiot could have predicted (and many idiots did predict) the rising inflation, political posturing, backroom backstabbing and flagging support for an aimless war against a nameless enemy.
Important note before I go on: This post concerns political matters, but it should not in any way be construed as an endorsement or support of any politician or political party, living or dead. It is submitted to the public purely in the spirit of mockery, derision and cynicism directed at all those who seek power to force their will on others regardless of good or evil intent. Like a highway accident rubber-necker, I care not who occupies the driver’s or passenger’s seat of the vehicle of government. I’m only interested in the bloody mangled limbs dangling from the wreckage.
Right now our glorious leaders are spinning so fast as to alter the earth’s rotation (which incidentally, I believe, is one of the proposals in the energy bill) in an attempt to explain the logical results of their hubris away. Fortunately, not to be out done, the valiant opposition has finally stopped explaining how they would do exactly the same thing only different, and they have tapped into their incredible superpowers of hindsight in an attempt to capitalize on the situation. This strategy may gain them a few beds in the Houses of Ill Repute; maybe even enough to get take back the good sheets. But what of the sea change?
The pendulum may have reached the apex of its swing. Will things change? Some will, though less by force of will and more by force of nature. The laws of physics still apply. Revolving debt leads inexorably to bankruptcy. Lies always break down over time, until at some point reason must be abandoned in order to continue to cling to them. And fighting, well, unless one is a psychotic, no one wants to fight without getting anything in return. The same goes for those who fund the fighters regardless of how high they hold the fighters in esteem. Even if this weren’t the case (or the populace has succumbed to mass psychosis) the resources needed to continue the fight are rapidly dwindling.
However, with the impending reversal of the swing, many things will remain the same. A pendulum after all, merely swings in place relative to its fulcrum. The bob may only travel within a proscribed arc making no net progress. But as Jean Foucault illustrated with his invention, its movement reveals the greater motion of the object to which is attached. In this case the State, the Empire, the Global Hyper-power. With each swing, whether to the left or right, the tool of the State turns in the direction of power, of greater intrusion into the lives of its subject, and greater attempts to reshape the world. Regardless of what the politicians may say this motion is inevitable. As much as we vilify them, they are a reflection of the will of the people. “That’s what democracy is all about,” You may say, “Isn’t that a good thing?” It’s good only if what the people want is good. If the people want to consume more than they produce, blame others for their problems, stamp out sin, and have someone protect and care for them, maybe it’s not so great.
Add to this the fact that the very nature of power to seek more power, greater control. This is not a case of good versus evil, but of cause and effect. A good man can no more resist the urge to use power when the reigns are handed to him than he can resist falling after stepping over a precipice. Even those with purely benevolent intentions see all the things they want to fix in the world and go forth like giant clumsy puppies. Omnipotence without omniscience is a deadly combination; maybe worse than the greed of a tyrant. The only thing any politician with a conscious can do is to give up power, but even when they do, someone else is always been willing to take their place. The end result of this is that the halls of power are populated mostly by people who are both ruthless and clueless, and thanks to the electoral anointment of the populace, they can blame it all on the will of the people.
Between the lust for power and the fear of losing it it’s a wonder things aren’t worse. Well it’s not really a wonder considering that, like all parasitic entities, the powerful can only suck so much blood from their hosts before the latter collapse taking the former with. So while it may get worse it will eventually decline. I don’t pretend to know when exactly the Empire will reach its peak, if it hasn’t already, but I suspect that the decline is eminent. Like the rotation of the Earth, the cycle of history is nearly imperceptible in the moment, but track the movement of the pendulum and watch the shadows creep up the hillside, and one can see it.
TLMIMHICP: "July, July!" I hate to break it to those of you with a hardon for the Decemberists, but they are not geniuses. They are a cheesy pop group on an indie label who've taken too many creative writing classes. That's not to say that they suck. They don't. Niether does a lot of pop music, much of it is in my own personal collection, along with the recent addition of Castaways and Cutouts, but I recognize it for what it is. It is not deep. It is not poignant. It is entertainment, pure and simple, and when it runs on a continuous loop in your head it's really annoying.
Important note before I go on: This post concerns political matters, but it should not in any way be construed as an endorsement or support of any politician or political party, living or dead. It is submitted to the public purely in the spirit of mockery, derision and cynicism directed at all those who seek power to force their will on others regardless of good or evil intent. Like a highway accident rubber-necker, I care not who occupies the driver’s or passenger’s seat of the vehicle of government. I’m only interested in the bloody mangled limbs dangling from the wreckage.
Right now our glorious leaders are spinning so fast as to alter the earth’s rotation (which incidentally, I believe, is one of the proposals in the energy bill) in an attempt to explain the logical results of their hubris away. Fortunately, not to be out done, the valiant opposition has finally stopped explaining how they would do exactly the same thing only different, and they have tapped into their incredible superpowers of hindsight in an attempt to capitalize on the situation. This strategy may gain them a few beds in the Houses of Ill Repute; maybe even enough to get take back the good sheets. But what of the sea change?
The pendulum may have reached the apex of its swing. Will things change? Some will, though less by force of will and more by force of nature. The laws of physics still apply. Revolving debt leads inexorably to bankruptcy. Lies always break down over time, until at some point reason must be abandoned in order to continue to cling to them. And fighting, well, unless one is a psychotic, no one wants to fight without getting anything in return. The same goes for those who fund the fighters regardless of how high they hold the fighters in esteem. Even if this weren’t the case (or the populace has succumbed to mass psychosis) the resources needed to continue the fight are rapidly dwindling.
However, with the impending reversal of the swing, many things will remain the same. A pendulum after all, merely swings in place relative to its fulcrum. The bob may only travel within a proscribed arc making no net progress. But as Jean Foucault illustrated with his invention, its movement reveals the greater motion of the object to which is attached. In this case the State, the Empire, the Global Hyper-power. With each swing, whether to the left or right, the tool of the State turns in the direction of power, of greater intrusion into the lives of its subject, and greater attempts to reshape the world. Regardless of what the politicians may say this motion is inevitable. As much as we vilify them, they are a reflection of the will of the people. “That’s what democracy is all about,” You may say, “Isn’t that a good thing?” It’s good only if what the people want is good. If the people want to consume more than they produce, blame others for their problems, stamp out sin, and have someone protect and care for them, maybe it’s not so great.
Add to this the fact that the very nature of power to seek more power, greater control. This is not a case of good versus evil, but of cause and effect. A good man can no more resist the urge to use power when the reigns are handed to him than he can resist falling after stepping over a precipice. Even those with purely benevolent intentions see all the things they want to fix in the world and go forth like giant clumsy puppies. Omnipotence without omniscience is a deadly combination; maybe worse than the greed of a tyrant. The only thing any politician with a conscious can do is to give up power, but even when they do, someone else is always been willing to take their place. The end result of this is that the halls of power are populated mostly by people who are both ruthless and clueless, and thanks to the electoral anointment of the populace, they can blame it all on the will of the people.
Between the lust for power and the fear of losing it it’s a wonder things aren’t worse. Well it’s not really a wonder considering that, like all parasitic entities, the powerful can only suck so much blood from their hosts before the latter collapse taking the former with. So while it may get worse it will eventually decline. I don’t pretend to know when exactly the Empire will reach its peak, if it hasn’t already, but I suspect that the decline is eminent. Like the rotation of the Earth, the cycle of history is nearly imperceptible in the moment, but track the movement of the pendulum and watch the shadows creep up the hillside, and one can see it.
TLMIMHICP: "July, July!" I hate to break it to those of you with a hardon for the Decemberists, but they are not geniuses. They are a cheesy pop group on an indie label who've taken too many creative writing classes. That's not to say that they suck. They don't. Niether does a lot of pop music, much of it is in my own personal collection, along with the recent addition of Castaways and Cutouts, but I recognize it for what it is. It is not deep. It is not poignant. It is entertainment, pure and simple, and when it runs on a continuous loop in your head it's really annoying.
Monday, November 14, 2005
iHate iTunes
Not really, but there must be some sick subroutines somewhere in that program. What else could explain following Joe Strummer's "Minstrel Boy" with "Margaritaville"? That's just wrong. I don't know even know how Jimmy Buffet got in there. I swear I've never downloaded, let alone purchased his music. Evil I tell you.
TLMIMHICP: What else? "Margaritaville" That little shit must be in cahoots with Apple.
TLMIMHICP: What else? "Margaritaville" That little shit must be in cahoots with Apple.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Or Maybe Utah Philips
As much as I like the Mekons (I put them up in the same league as the Clash and the Pogues, and that's really fucking high), I'm going on 3 days of being haunted by the same two songs about striking miners. I tried everything with a catchy hook to shake them - Abba, TMBG, Dead Milkmen - nothing worked, and I couldn't figure out why. Then it hit me this morning: One of the projects I'm working on has a non-union general contractor. I've been spoiled for the past couple years working with union crews, but this outfit has been giving be nothing but grief. My boss warned the owners not to hire these guys, that they'd low-ball the estimate and come back and screw them, but the owners didn't listen and now we're all paying the price. This is not a knock on the guys in the field. I like them, and they are hard workers, but without representation they are powerless against being jerked around, understaffed and not kept up-to-date by the general. The upshot of all this it is that the little man in my head is reminding me of the importance of organized labor. Time for some Dropkick Murphys.
TLMIMHICP: "Coal Hole" & "Abernant 1984/85" Still...
TLMIMHICP: "Coal Hole" & "Abernant 1984/85" Still...
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Mekons
I’m having conflicting feelings about The Little Man In My Head agian. He’s a right bastard he is, making me drink Mountain Dew and telling me to rent 2 Fast 2 Furious. But he’s been playing straight Mekons since yesterday morning. And I can’t hate him for that, except that now I need to find an Original Sin CD.
TLMIMHICP: “Coal Hole”
TLMIMHICP: “Coal Hole”
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Respiratory Distress
Listen, if you are a teacher experiencing a cough or congestion, the reason is NOT the new air handling system, the new roof insulation, or the dust from the remodel. Look at the calender on the wall and then look around the classroom at the 20 other possible causes for your sinus discomfort. I'll bet you at least one of them has a finger up his nose right now. See, there he is and he just touched the door handle. You have a masters degree and a certificate from the state certifying that you are qualified to teach our kids, and you can't figure this out?
TLMIMHICP: Mekons "Abernant 1984/85"
TLMIMHICP: Mekons "Abernant 1984/85"
Monday, November 07, 2005
Monday Night Football
The things a guy will do for love. Or a crude facsimile thereof. The landlord knows full well. The glowing purple neon tells it all. Visitors from across time and space may crash land in the car park; crawling from their crumpled craft they recognize the universal sign. They pull out their singles and slither inside. But for now, no tourists. Day shift crowd. Townies. Regulars. Cheap barley-pop and a for a dollar, fruity shots when the oblong game piece crosses an arbitrary line. Happy hour is a misnomer twice over. Over the next two hours the night crew filters in. Less tired. More life left in them. The establishment remains half empty. The half full folks are somewhere else for now. The twin chemicals nicotine and alchohol kick in. A quick survey of the space before I forget: L-shaped wall. The old storefront bisected by thick cedar columns bearing a patina of booze, smoke and engine oil. To the left, pool tables and beyond, the bar. To the right the fool tables and the stage: pole, wheel, the steps flanked by a pair of oversized aquarium bubblers. The chiller and boiler duel to the death. The compressor strains as the burner flutters. Its fire flickers as the cocktail waitress shudders. The big screen is school surplus. The sight of it in such a dim room forces a pavlovian yawn. Years of conditioning in the indoctrination camps. The smirking visage of Jesse James absorbs all. He's on to the double entendre. The interminable game ends, the barker begins. The regulars fade into the revelers. Kids and couples. while the former spread out, the latter cluster. The pro team suit up, or down as the case may be, to play the game. Pasties and a G-string. Beer and a shot. Skinny, nubile and glittering with small pert bumps. The semipros work the back. Twice the glory with half the fame. Jiggly one-eyed-wonders peeking over low-riders. Ample cleavage and hips made to grip. The star players acting, the chorus interacting, the patrons reacting. One on the arm, the other on the eye. They know the script and the audience. With a quick word, flashing smile and a passing glance they know where to focus their efforts. They see my reaction of little more than mild amusement mixed with curiosity. The ruse is up. They will not be back anytime soon nor will I. The sleet and sleep await.
TLMIMHIPC: "I want to be your dog" - Sonic Youth covering Iggy Pop
TLMIMHIPC: "I want to be your dog" - Sonic Youth covering Iggy Pop
Class, Cash & Clash
Was I born in a barn? Unlike a certain Jewish man who allegedly was one summer night 2011 years ago, I was not, although I was practically raised in one. My parents were back-to-the-land hippies in the early 70s, and as a result I’m an odd duck pretty much wherever I go. I’m not really rural working class, despite the almost identical economic and living conditions, due to the fact that my parents instilled in us the importance of education, the arts, multiculturalism and charity, but I also don’t fit in with the educated professional class due to my rural low-income roots.
I could go on ad nauseam about all the ways I didn’t fit in as a child, but if you are reading this you either know me well enough or have been there yourself. I always did think, though, that I would fit in once I was “grown up” and out of that little town. That is not the case. There are several things about the middle-class domestic lifestyle that are alien to me.
Tact - I don’t have any. Like many rural folk, I don’t say much. When I do, I tend to forgo the polite formalities of bourgeois language so what comes out is often offensive, insulting, or just plain weird. If you know me well enough, you’ve experienced this and also may know the origin of this trait.
Shopping - I’m cheap. Not hunting-for-a-bargain-at-Costco cheap, but sewing patches on my pants cheap. When you grow up poor, spending money is not an entertaining activity. It’s a long drive to the store, and when you need something you get in, get out, and get back to work before the check bounces. All you think about is all the shit that you want but can’t have. Even today with a good job, a little savings and tons of available credit, I still feel that way.
Personal space - I’m used to have a lot of room around me. I’m not big on shaking hands and small talk. Just don’t bug me and let me do my job. And as much as I like going to shows and hanging out at the bar, crowds and confined spaces are my phobias. Give me heights and snakes any day over that shit.
Appearance - I don’t really look like a member of the middle class, more like a janitor or dishwasher. I prefer to be a little shaggy, and feel really weird when I’m all clean cut. People call me “sir” n shit when I wear a tie. I do wear “business casual crap to work, but I always wear my Redwings. I keep them clean and looking nice, but I refuse to wear loafers - Polo shirts either. Fuck that shit.
No shoes in the house - I grew up in a drafty old house with cold wood floors. Sure, I wouldn’t wear my muddy boots inside, but I’ll be damned if I’m going around barefoot. I’m working hard at getting over this one. Maybe if I install heated floors in our house I can do it. Then again I’d be bothered at living with such an extravagance.
Pop culture - We had no TV until the early 80s, and never had cable. If it were up to me, I could do without both now. Radio reception wasn’t great either. The soundtrack to my childhood was KQRS, WCCO, MPR, the country/polka station, and the Christian station. As a result, many pop-culture references are lost on me. However if I listened through the static on my little radio, I could hear Dr. Demento and Rock Over London on 104.1. I think that’s what saved me. That and a couple of other poor small town folks who went the same shit. You know who you are.
Dating – Because of my interests in the arts and academics, most of the women I hung out with in my late teens and early twenties were of a distinctly higher socioeconomic class than I. Their parents were usually educated professionals or at least well paid blue collar. They also had much more money than I which made for some awkwardness on dates (on those rare occasions), particularly if dinner or entertainment was involved. For much of the time I didn’t even have a car, and when I did it was some ugly beater. With hindsight, I’m sure that they didn’t give a flying fig about these things, and of all the stupid shit I did and said to alienate potential mates, that should have been the least of my worries.
Schmoozing - Up until my current position, I worked mostly with uneducated rednecks. Any display of intelligence or sensitivity was met with suspicion or derision. Blatant sexism on the job site was the rule, and racist humor was de rigueur. (I wish I could say that neither of the aforementioned are present in my current profession, but sadly I can not.) As a result, I learned to keep my head down and work hard. This tactic doesn’t work so well in my chosen career. It is an old gentleman’s profession, and I just don’t have much in common with these guys. However, I have to be social or I’ll get shoved in a back cubicle and never get a raise. The only advantage I’ve got is that I’m smart and productive, but somehow I have to let them know that.
Pets - This is a big issue in my house. Listen middle-class folks. I love animals. I’m a big dog person, and I can tolerate cats, as long as they keep the mice away. But pets are animals, and as every farm boy knows, and animals belong outside, not in the house; definitely not in the bed. They have fur and thick soles; they’ve lived outside millions of years. Sometimes if an animal was a runt or orphaned or born in the winter, we’d bring it inside in a box to bottle feed. The only time we would let the dogs inside was if it was well below zero, and even then they stayed in the laundry room. Today, our dogs have a room in the garage with a heat lamp and cedar-chip beds, and I still get the stink eye if I don’t let them in. They’re dogs!
We like to imagine that in this society there is no such thing as class and caste, but this is not the case. Fortunately, compared to most places in the world class identity is more fluid here, especially west of the Mississippi. To some extent we are free to move from class to class and back without much hassle. However, we carry many of our habits and values with us which are not so easily changed as our tax brackets.
TLMIMHICP: "Whoever you are" - Geggy Tah. A down right cruel song to inflict on one's host.
I could go on ad nauseam about all the ways I didn’t fit in as a child, but if you are reading this you either know me well enough or have been there yourself. I always did think, though, that I would fit in once I was “grown up” and out of that little town. That is not the case. There are several things about the middle-class domestic lifestyle that are alien to me.
Tact - I don’t have any. Like many rural folk, I don’t say much. When I do, I tend to forgo the polite formalities of bourgeois language so what comes out is often offensive, insulting, or just plain weird. If you know me well enough, you’ve experienced this and also may know the origin of this trait.
Shopping - I’m cheap. Not hunting-for-a-bargain-at-Costco cheap, but sewing patches on my pants cheap. When you grow up poor, spending money is not an entertaining activity. It’s a long drive to the store, and when you need something you get in, get out, and get back to work before the check bounces. All you think about is all the shit that you want but can’t have. Even today with a good job, a little savings and tons of available credit, I still feel that way.
Personal space - I’m used to have a lot of room around me. I’m not big on shaking hands and small talk. Just don’t bug me and let me do my job. And as much as I like going to shows and hanging out at the bar, crowds and confined spaces are my phobias. Give me heights and snakes any day over that shit.
Appearance - I don’t really look like a member of the middle class, more like a janitor or dishwasher. I prefer to be a little shaggy, and feel really weird when I’m all clean cut. People call me “sir” n shit when I wear a tie. I do wear “business casual crap to work, but I always wear my Redwings. I keep them clean and looking nice, but I refuse to wear loafers - Polo shirts either. Fuck that shit.
No shoes in the house - I grew up in a drafty old house with cold wood floors. Sure, I wouldn’t wear my muddy boots inside, but I’ll be damned if I’m going around barefoot. I’m working hard at getting over this one. Maybe if I install heated floors in our house I can do it. Then again I’d be bothered at living with such an extravagance.
Pop culture - We had no TV until the early 80s, and never had cable. If it were up to me, I could do without both now. Radio reception wasn’t great either. The soundtrack to my childhood was KQRS, WCCO, MPR, the country/polka station, and the Christian station. As a result, many pop-culture references are lost on me. However if I listened through the static on my little radio, I could hear Dr. Demento and Rock Over London on 104.1. I think that’s what saved me. That and a couple of other poor small town folks who went the same shit. You know who you are.
Dating – Because of my interests in the arts and academics, most of the women I hung out with in my late teens and early twenties were of a distinctly higher socioeconomic class than I. Their parents were usually educated professionals or at least well paid blue collar. They also had much more money than I which made for some awkwardness on dates (on those rare occasions), particularly if dinner or entertainment was involved. For much of the time I didn’t even have a car, and when I did it was some ugly beater. With hindsight, I’m sure that they didn’t give a flying fig about these things, and of all the stupid shit I did and said to alienate potential mates, that should have been the least of my worries.
Schmoozing - Up until my current position, I worked mostly with uneducated rednecks. Any display of intelligence or sensitivity was met with suspicion or derision. Blatant sexism on the job site was the rule, and racist humor was de rigueur. (I wish I could say that neither of the aforementioned are present in my current profession, but sadly I can not.) As a result, I learned to keep my head down and work hard. This tactic doesn’t work so well in my chosen career. It is an old gentleman’s profession, and I just don’t have much in common with these guys. However, I have to be social or I’ll get shoved in a back cubicle and never get a raise. The only advantage I’ve got is that I’m smart and productive, but somehow I have to let them know that.
Pets - This is a big issue in my house. Listen middle-class folks. I love animals. I’m a big dog person, and I can tolerate cats, as long as they keep the mice away. But pets are animals, and as every farm boy knows, and animals belong outside, not in the house; definitely not in the bed. They have fur and thick soles; they’ve lived outside millions of years. Sometimes if an animal was a runt or orphaned or born in the winter, we’d bring it inside in a box to bottle feed. The only time we would let the dogs inside was if it was well below zero, and even then they stayed in the laundry room. Today, our dogs have a room in the garage with a heat lamp and cedar-chip beds, and I still get the stink eye if I don’t let them in. They’re dogs!
We like to imagine that in this society there is no such thing as class and caste, but this is not the case. Fortunately, compared to most places in the world class identity is more fluid here, especially west of the Mississippi. To some extent we are free to move from class to class and back without much hassle. However, we carry many of our habits and values with us which are not so easily changed as our tax brackets.
TLMIMHICP: "Whoever you are" - Geggy Tah. A down right cruel song to inflict on one's host.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Some Days
Some days I just want to stand on the street corner, wave my penis around and shout at traffic. A bright blue hole opening in the grey curtain hanging over the valley this morning. Sunlight and a little mania washed over me. Now it is gone and I feel my serotonin levels dropping.
TLMIMHICP: "Baby It's Over" from Tall Dwarfs blending into "Sophie" by Goodshirt then moving into Chris Knox's "When I Have Left This Mortal Coil". Looks like I'm in for a day of maudlin indie New Zealand music. The little man must have been up all night drinking and thinking of lost love and mortality... and sheep.
TLMIMHICP: "Baby It's Over" from Tall Dwarfs blending into "Sophie" by Goodshirt then moving into Chris Knox's "When I Have Left This Mortal Coil". Looks like I'm in for a day of maudlin indie New Zealand music. The little man must have been up all night drinking and thinking of lost love and mortality... and sheep.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
I'm hoping to get an iPod in a few months out of this:
TLMIMHICP: "Overload" Foamy Ed
TLMIMHICP: "Overload" Foamy Ed
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Movies Movies Movies
Since I spent the weekend opening a theater, you'd think I'd have seen a bunch of new movies and have something to say about them. Well, not really. I watched parts of Saw II from the projection room and I don't think I missed anything without the audio. The only movie we watched was Wallace & Gromit. Highly recommended, by the way. If you can watch it in an empty theater, all the better. I wish it were in digital, but I'm getting spoiled. Fortunately, Chicken Little and Narnia will be. So if you are in the Seattle area, head across the floating bridge to the Bellevue Galleria 11, now independantly owned, for digital movies. On the DVD front, go out and rent Downfall. We also rented Team America. Not exactly subtle, and I don't see the logic how dicks fucking assholes will keep them from shitting all over the pussies, but it was entertaining nontheless.TLMIMHICP: "Turn the World Around" Harry Belafonte & The Muppets. Oh yes, when you get Muppets in your head they won't leave with out the use of heavy psychotropic remedies. I'm playing all the repetative songs in my iTunes library and they ain't doin' shit.
