A Dull New Redux

One do get around. Contrary to what some may think, I do occasionally leave my Ivory Tower and co-mingle with the masses – most notably at 5:55 A.M. when I leave home to catch my bus to the office where I work. On most days, I leave the office at 3:30 P.M. and return home via the Metro. Twice a week or thereabouts, George gives me a lift home from work thus sparing me from the lunacy of the Metro commute. In addition to the convenience, I also get to take care of errands and other such delights. Moreover, I am frequently exposed to ‘new’ music.

On Tuesday, as we were winding our way through the traffic, a radio deejay, (I can’t remember who, nor can I determine why he was hired as a deejay as he had the diction of a warthog with a mouthful of marbles… Take that, Demosthenes!), mumbled something about a ‘new’ song titled ‘Why’.

Already bored with the repetitious and utterly incoherent dreck that passes for music, specifically ‘club’ music, whatever the hell that may be, music to that makes you want to club people, perhaps? I don’t know… Anyway, after suffering in silence while someone grizzled on about being taken to the clouds way up high or getting high or hell, who knows, this deejay introduced us to this supposedly new and exciting song by one of the nameless horde of au courant deejays who appeal to the throngs of people whose taste have been subverted by years of sitting in front of the television. Or eating mucilage — the effect is the same. These haute artistes of music, rather than produce their own music, apparently enjoy great fame and presumably income by taking the lyrics and vestiges of the music (crafted by a much better lyricist and songwriter) and adding distortion, an annoying and repetitive bass line, and finding a nameless shrill and incoherent woman to mangle the original song rather like a pack of hyenas feasting on an unfortunate dik-dik. They then, presumably, sit back from exhaustion and wipe the sweat from their brow. All of this travail in the name of Music and Art.

So after a breathless panegyric about this song and how exciting and new it was, he pressed play and wandered off to go have a coffee or play footsy with the janitor. With something less than anticipation, I sat hunched in the passenger seat waiting to be assailed with new.

Imagine my surprise when new was nothing more than an exceptionally meretricious remix of Annie Lennox’s song, ‘Why’.

Appalled at the temerity of this peddler of shlock, I listened for a few moments in the hope that it was all a ghastly dream. The original Lennox song released on the album Diva in May of 1992 is a poignant and bittersweet reflection the breakdown of communication and consequently a relationship. The entire album was a departure from Lennox’s previous work with the Eurythmics; however, Lennox lost none of her perspicacity.

Now, before I continue much further, let me address several points.

This is not a screed against cover artists per se. There are many instances where cover artists have brought something new to the work by their interpretation. One of these would be Siouxsie and the Banshee’s cover of the Beatles’ song “Dear Prudence”. There are others, but let us not get bogged down by this cavil.

Moreover, I am not disparaging groups such as the avant-garde Ladytron or Fischerspooner. They are not engaged in the manufacture of pabulum. Their work is not derivative. Nor is their entire oeuvre dross manufactured with a minimum of thought or creative effort, if one can indeed call the dreck produced (I refuse to use the word ‘create’) by these hacks creative.

Furthermore, I am not casting nasturtiums at genuine deejays like Felix da Housecat or others who explore new concepts in music and are genuinely creative. My criticisms are reserved for those who ride on the coat-tails of their betters and push their tawdry wares on the gullible and unsuspecting.

Ask yourself what do these so-called artists produce that is of any merit?

Absolutely nothing, rather than face the daunting challenge of doing something innovative, these cretins subscribe to a theory similar in nature and form to that of the ghastly auteur theory of directing — they are the authors of this work. It is their sublime talent that makes it worth viewing/hearing. What utter poppycock! Lennox’s original was greater by far. Hell, we’re not talking time zones here, kiddos, we’re talking light years.

So what the hell does all this matter?

By rights, this crap should be given its just deserts and treated accordingly — with contempt — however, it identifies an underlying problem.

It matters because it is another example of how mindless the masses have become.

Please ignore the screams of angst from those who ardently protest the label mindless.

Yes, people, the masses have become mindless. They accept penny dreadful fiction as the apex of literary achievement; these same people gorge themselves on McDonald’s “hamburgers” and are sated, they buy into such quackery as is promoted on those sublime salons of rationalism and critical thinking called daytime talk shows, these folks sat in line and in the suffocating boxes called cinemas to watch the inane Star Wars prequels and thought that the pisher of the decade, Peter Jackson, was a wondrous director for his hatchet-job on Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. These, too, are the people who think that astrology is real in a pitiful attempt to shirk responsibility for their lives. It is this same lot who buy “fantasy” art featuring disproportionate women in clothing that would be ill-suited for leaving the house. And presumably, their parents are the cretins who collect Hummel figurines and buy those daubs of Thomas Kinkade.

They buy all this because they’ve been told to do so by suave marketing and the dreadful fear of being considered… elitist. Egalitarianism has gone much too far. Not everything is created equal. Judith Krantz is certainly not of the same caliber as Dorothy Parker. Kinkade’s messes don’t even compare to Titian or Rembrandt. An ‘Healthy Choice’ (an illiteracy, for those of you that care) microwaveable dinner is not the same as even the most simple pasta puttanesca. The list is endless.

So tonight, turn off the boob tube, go buy a decent bottle of plonk — no, Carlo Rossi doesn’t count, you dunderhead — make some pasta puttanesca, and talk with your lover or your roommate about things that matter. Forget about bills and other tiresome subjects for an hour or two. Or read a good book. I’ll even go so far as to suggest a couple. Try P.G. Wodehouse’s The Cat-nappers, if you’re feeling in need of a laugh. Or Austen’s Mansfield Park should you desire something meatier. Or if you want a combination of both, I heartily recommend to you Dickens' David Copperfield. I’ll even lend you my copy. Aren’t I just a swell guy? Anyway, grab your lover, or your book, and watch the sun set, enjoy the food and the wine, and savor life.

Don’t argue, just do it. You’ll thank me later.

Have a great weekend.

Morons, Intelligent Design, and the JREF

I won't even attempt to apologize for the discursiveness of this post, however, a few things happened which have given me cause to comment.

This morning brought the news that the Halfwit-in-Chief supports the teaching of Intelligent Design (ID) in the classroom. To any but the most mind-bogglingly stupid, ID is without a doubt a colossal piece of pseudo-science and quasi-religious flummery; so one is not particularly stunned when President Bush comes out swinging in its defense. Our inestimable Dumbya in Pennsylvania Avenue seems to embrace slipshod theories and muddled thinking such as Iraqis behind the terrorist attacks of September 11th. I almost miss the astrologers in the White House.

This pronunciamento from our elected Theocrat-in-bureaucrat's clothing will, no doubt, fan the flames of illogic, paralogia, and irrationalism that are currently sweeping the nation. Kansas, which is already poised to plunge back into the twelfth century, will no doubt make hay while the sun shines and cheerfully wave good-bye to the twenty-first century. I anticipate witch-burnings and Inquisitions by the end of the year from the Sunflower State.

What our dearly loved President doesn't understand is that by promoting the instruction of half-baked pseudo-science in the classroom, he's paving the way for lower test scores in the sciences. And I'm sure that the religious kadodies who embrace the precepts of ID will soon find a way to condemn algebra - If God had meant for numbers to be represented by letters he would've made netters or lumbers, show me the transitional links... - as they add more books to the pile waiting to be flung onto the pyres.

But I digress.

President Bush's statement was, no doubt, calculated to garner further support from the religious and social conservatives to whom he panders in the most obsequious manner. The White House Science Advisor, John Marburger, stated that evolution is the 'cornerstone of modern biology' in an interview with the Chronicle of Higher Education earlier this year. Additionally, Mr. Marburger has characterized ID as not even being a scientific theory. Confidential to Mr. Marburger: Resign in protest now; before the hooded cabal comes knocking at your door to drag you away for having the temerity to suggest that the earth isn't flat.

It's a pity that Ol' Moses hisself - Charlton Heston, for those of you not in the know - isn't quite as active as he was during the Reagan Administration. Ol' Moses was a good mouthpiece for that particular crepuscular old fart (de moriturii and all that notwithstanding, he WAS a crepuscular old fart). Besides, he commanded the attention of the Moral Malignancy and their masses of morons who are just a-waitin' for the Rapture.

As an aside, have any of you noticed an increase in the number of loons driving around with bumper stickers that read, 'In case of Rapture, this car will be unattended' or some such? Is it just me or is this really alarming? Viz. 'Excuse me, sir, but did you realize that you were swerving across six lanes of oncoming traffic?' 'No, officer, I wasn't present, I'd gone up to Sweet Baby Jesus in Rapture.' Of course, I jest, when the Rapture comes (if ever), it'll sweep all the True Believers off to the arms of the Lord in Heaven. The sooner, the better, I say. We could use a good housecleaning here on old Terra.

For any of my loyal readers, all two of you, who are not familiar with James Randi, I commend to you the website for the James Randi Educational Foundation (JREF): http://www.randi.org/. It is a wonderful site, I suggest that you read his commentary and the archives to get a few laughs and more than a little bit of disgust at the yipyops and cretins who feep about trying to make a quick buck with their shills and flimflams all at the expense of the ignorant. As a quick overview, the JREF is working to combat the Forces of Darkness by exposing the shams and tricksters who peddle pseudo-science, the paranormal and other dreck and raise false hopes and claims in others. To this end, they've offered a million dollars ($1,000,000 US) to the first person to successfully demonstrate their claim under rigorous scientific testing using mutually agreed upon methods by a third-party. To date no-one has successfully passed the preliminary examination. Sylvia Browne, that 'psychic' darling of Montel Williams has accepted the challenge and then oiled out of it. The JREF is running a timer on its site indicating the number of days elapsed since she said she'd try for the money. I'd suggest reading the submitted applications and the dialogue with Kramer from the JREF. They're a hoot. Don't mind the typographical errors which occasionally crop up. If you can, I'd suggest buying a little something from their store. It'll help keep the JREF going and quite possibly help in the battle against these jimooks.

On a related note, I’m wondering what the stoats that push astrology will have to say about the discovery of that tenth planet. When Pluto was discovered, they at least had the ‘mystical’ number nine to work with and could cover themselves that way. I’m not familiar with any particular mysticism surrounding the number ten, but then I wouldn’t follow that sort of lunacy if I were paid to do so.

You know, I just thought of something. Isn’t the pushing of ID monumentally stupid on the part of El Presidente in light of his much vaunted No Child Left Behind scheme? After eating of the insane root that is ID, how could a child, without previously having been exposed to rationalism and the scientific method, be expected to do well on a science test? Are they going to think that dinosaurs were placed here to confuse us? That, by the by, begs the question: Why would any “loving” deity ever willfully seek to confuse his/her/its followers in such a manner? Does the aforementioned deity have a perverse sense of humor? Or is he/she/it not really as nice and kind and loving as suggested by the people who are still waiting to be rapt off this planet and into Heaven? I don’t know about you but I tend to find trust to be one of the cornerstones of a successful relationship. In what other subjects is this deity deceiving us? Just a thought…

Hey, no complaints, didn’t I warn you that this was going to be discursive?