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Monthly Archives: May 2009

Oh good grief, Sam the Wurzelplumber:

At a state level, it’s up to them. I don’t want it to be a federal thing. I personally still think it’s wrong. People don’t understand the dictionary—it’s called queer. Queer means strange and unusual. It’s not like a slur, like you would call a white person a honky or something like that. You know, God is pretty explicit in what we’re supposed to do—what man and woman are for. Now, at the same time, we’re supposed to love everybody and accept people, and preach against the sins. I’ve had some friends that are actually homosexual. And, I mean, they know where I stand, and they know that I wouldn’t have them anywhere near my children. But at the same time, they’re people, and they’re going to do their thing.

UHHHHHHHHHH. “People” “don’t understand” “the dictionary”? I think we understand the dictionary just fine, guy. Let’s break it down for this craptard, shall we?

a) “Queer,” in “THE DICTIONARY,” means strange and unusual. Okay, point for you, Sam the Wurzmule. Never let it be said that I’m not being fair in our one-sided discourse.
b) “Queer” is “not a slur,” O RLY?! Why do you think gay people were originally called “queer” in the first place, hmmm???? For kicks?
c) You are the honkiest cracker that has ever lived.
d) You know how black people took the slur “nigger” and started using it? That’s kind of what happened with “queer,” you asshat.

Joe the Bacherspondent doesn’t really understand the reappropriation of language that has been of historical import in the identity politics of marginalized groups but oh, maybe that kind of thinking is too abstract and complex for poor widdle ole Joe perhaps. So maybe we should let him off the hook for not understanding COMPLICATED ISSUES, considering he thought he made $250,000 in his nonexistent plumbing business. DON’T CONFUZZLE SAMUEL.

I would like to know who these gay friends of his are. Like the gay people Sarah Palin said she knew, but that one is more obvious I mean she played basketball in Alaska for Chrissake, of course there was a lesbian or two there. But I mean…his name isn’t Joe, he isn’t actually a plumber, does this guy even HAVE kids? If he does, I can safely speak for the gay community and say, “We don’t want them around us either.” Look at Sam and the queers, coming together on this issue, ahem. And where are his kids?! Shouldn’t he be taking care of them instead of yapping to nobody?! Is that what all his jobs are for, to pay child support? TRY HARDER.

I will say though, that considering this bald old whore introduced this whole NOBAMA IZ A SOSHALIST! meme, that he’s fine with states deciding on gay marriage. States like Iowa and Massachusetts and Connecticut  and Vermont and maybe New Hampshire and Maine too, eh Joe?

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The past, oh, month or so has been a complete musical regression to 1991-1995 for me. A few days of Bikini Kill followed by a few days of Hole. I blame this on PJ Harvey. I was really excited about the release of her collaboration with John Parish, but A Woman A Man Walked By was wildly disappointing, and highlighted for me a lot of the criticisms that are thrown at Harvey–criticisms, by the way, I’d never really agreed with until this record. But if there was such a thing as a paint-by-numbers PJ Harvey song, they existed in appalling frequency on this record.

Part of the disappointment of A Woman A Man Walked By is due to my appreciation of Harvey and Parish’s previous collaboration, Dance Hall at Louse Point, a record I previously described as being “a less-cacophonous (though still really noisy!) Sonic Youth record except with someone who can actually carry a tune.” And then this happened, talk about kismet! Every reaction I’ve ever had about Sonic Youth can be summed up by “Bull in the Heather,” by far my favorite SY song insofar as it sounds exactly what I want out of the band (or any rock band, for that matter) while also summing up exactly what I don’t want out of that band (or any rock band).

I love the sound of Sonic Youth, and what makes me love “Bull in the Heather” is the first thirty seconds–those absolutely filthy opening notes followed by the driving riff. It is one of my favorite thirty seconds of music in the entire 1990s, and I’m sure it has a lot to do with the age I was when this song came out, but it sonically captures post-puberty adolescence: all hormonal angst and burgeoning eroticism that is mysterious and terrifying but blatantly full of desire. It’s a shame that no one in this band can sing. And any kind of aural boner I get from the music in “Bull in the Heather” is immediately shrunken by that off-key ice queen singing about thrusting. Like following the perfect ass through the crowd only to have the person turn around looking horrendous. (And that video! Thurston feeding a banana to a horse? YUCK. Though it suggests that Kim Gordon has equine features, which is correct. And teenage hero Kathleen Hanna jumping around all annoying-like! Just throw a bucket of cold water onto my groin next time, thanks)

It’s a shame about Sonic Youth’s vocals, because there aren’t too many records that sound like them in the first place, capturing that waddayacallit–art rock New York post-punk deconstruction? In a way that sounds erotic and dirty and frightening and alluring, but with someone who can carry a tune or otherwise turn their voice into a fascinating sonic component. Which is why Dance Hall at Louse Point means what it does to me, with it’s slinkily loud guitar riffs supporting Harvey’s delicious melodramatics, as well as Hole’s Pretty on the Inside. I said I was listening to a lot of Hole, right? It’s no coincidence that Kim Gordon co-produced POTI, and Courtney Love and Eric Erlandson almost perfectly capture the guitar textures and driving riffs of Sonic Youth while under the influence of grindcore before shrinking in the face of Courtney Love’s inimitable scream. I wish there was more music like this.