Eating Celebrities Alive!

If my guard is up and Harry Partch is at least initially, until further notice, on my personal Index of (largely) Forbidden Works, I must say that the (Apollonian) Laurie Andersen still is not.  In one of her more sparse and strange tracks, which is saying a lot for a master of strangeness and cerebral performance art, the title track of her 1994 release, Bright Red, she finishes with a reading from the Douay-Reims Version of Prophet Isaiah�s prophecy concerning the �burden of Babylon� -that is to say, with a prophecy against Babylon.  I am not meaning to, in a legal sense, �lead the witness� here, but this is a portion of the prophecy and my (artistic and seriously under-funded) impression of how it could, repeat could, be interpreted.

�But wild beasts shall rest there �and the hairy ones shall dance there � And owls shall answer one another there �and sirens in the temples of pleasure.� (13:21-22)

�But wild beasts shall rest there ��

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charging_Bull

�� and the hairy ones shall dance there ��

(Warning: disturbing, or at least seriously disturbed, images:)

 http://www.amazon.com/Cannibal-Corpse/artist/B000APEB6E

� � And owls shall answer one another there ��

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_Nations_General_Assembly

�� and sirens in the temples of pleasure.�

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/music/2953665.stm

Serv

Ops,

Yes.  But I do not believe in the predominating cultural deities mentioned and identified by name in my above posts.  It might, just might, be because I believe in God that I feel this atavistic -or at least decidedly anachronistic-impulsion to rail against idolatry, including some of its current cultural forms.

So tell me, with this rather peculiar spot of logic on your part, how it is that, with the two hands that God gave me, I can change the station and prevent my children or those in my charge from listening to this garbage when they are not with me?  Are you  listening to Cannibal Corpse?  Well, even if you aren�t listening, a whole lot of children are.

For that matter, how might I walk through the check-out line of the grocery store without having my attention drawn to Mariah Carey�s cellulite?  I wouldn�t mind strapping on a pair of horse blinders but I already get enough unwanted attention from my benumbed and conformist countrymen and women as it is.

Ok, smarty pants, if it shouldn�t be complicated for one to change the station and thus prevent one's 12-year-old child from listening to Howard Stern-inspired forays into scatology and incest (when the kid is on the school bus, on his way to school) then please tell one how to do it.  I had considered becoming Amish but even they sing along to Madonna.

Let me ask you: have you ever immersed yourself into the, well, for lack of a better word, �music� of Cannibal Corpse?  Click on the above-provided link and read.   One of their songs, entitled Kill Christians, or some such thing, would be a reference to, among many others, my saintly mother.

Read again, and pay attention his time.

No kidding, Ops? 

I am not.  I am absolutely unique.  In fact, I insist upon my uniqueness.  To my view, you are the one who, at least in this case, is entirely but still rather endearingly predictable.  (And, speaking of unique, my new porcelain caps from an inexpensive dentist in Mexico make me look fabulous!)        

How does one change the station that one's child is listening to?  That is the question.  Answer that.  Think about this, and let it sink in.  One of the things that I either like or dislike about America, I cannot decide because it involves the freedoms that President Bush says the terrorists hate us for, is when my eleven-year-old daughter comes home from school singing along to Snoop Dog�s �Doggy Style� and looking like Justin Timberlake just caused her wardrobe to malfunction.

When your time comes, and if you do try to �change that station,� I should be interested to know just how you manage it.  Meanwhile, and as I said, I am home, working on home improvement projects -DIY- and am expressing my displeasure.  If you don�t like my rant, you know what you can do:  change the station.

But thank you for contributing to my blog anyway, because it bumps it up and keeps it gloriously active!

Best regards,

Serv

Serv, I am really 'feeling' your pain during this rant and the bits of good advice you're getting are at least keeping us afloat in the cultural toilet ...(not sure how appropriate that is, given the matter!)

But it was strange to find Ops reappearing after so long without a peep out of him on subjects more weighty than the assaults on one's  spiritual wellbeing at the check out. Standing up for American subcultures must be his most recent promotion. Down from raging against Whisper's more intellectually/politically challenging posts. At least he's realised his intellectual capacity is more suited to discussions of cellulite and the contents of the swirling garbage Americans take as 'culture', than defending the honour of his flag or whatever it is he does. 

Generally, I would advise 'channel changing' by moving somewhere where the assaults on your existential wellbeing are easier to control than through Ops' suggestion of flicking a switch. In other words, if you don't like it where you are: leave.

Of course, moving is one of the most stressfull things you can put yourself through, and then, believe it or not, you'd still suffer from 'culture shock', despite despising the culture you've just left!

Suffice to say, Miguelito, if you ever feel the urge to rediscover the roots in the land of Cervantes, we would love to have you!