And I'm Singing Once Again
Last night, in the Virtual Bar at Shakespeare's Sister, Marked Hoosier introduced the assembled to the utter horror that is Celine Dion covering AC/DC's You Shook Me. I responded pretty much as you might expect:
No no no no! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!
Clear!
K-CHUNK!
Clear!
K-CHUNK!
Clear!
K-CHUNK!
Nothing!
Right, so I pretended to be everyone's pet zombie, but only if I could have a pink collar with a little bell so I don't sneak up on birds. Any exposure to Celine Dion makes me want to kill myself but I forgot all about the tasty brains of the living until this afternoon, when I stumbled on a terrifying cable offering called Bake Decorate.
This is not food. This is what happens when you stop listening to your body whisper sweet nothings when filled with fresh fruit, vegetables and high quality proteins. This is what happens when you hunger for illusions. This is what happens when you think green beans come out of a can. Don't eat this! It's disgusting! And while I'm ranting, what the fuck is wrong with people that they teach their children that white flour-sugar-butter combinations are even better with sprinkles and goddamn frosting? Why not just hack open their little rib cages and spackle their arteries with yummy lard?Some things just aren't good for us, like Celine Dion and food with all the nutrition magically sucked out and replaced with fat and sugar. That stuff'll kill ya. Then again, some thngs offer gritty nourishment and kickass sustenance, like Melissa Etheridge climbing out of her presumed deathbed to show us how hard you can work at being alive. It's just a cover song. It's real and filling and raw.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go chase some delicious birdies.
posted by Tata at 4:18 PM
7 Comments:
Hey, if Celine Dion is a tall cool pitcher of iced tea with too much sugar, Etheridge is a shot of Jack Daniels. No chaser. She burns going down, but her music opens your eyes, clears your mind, and gets you ready to Rage Against The Machine. Celine gives you a headache. She's killing you softly. But before you do, there's a great deal on her new CD box set at Wal-Mart, hurry!
I won't be hurrying to Wal-Mart for anything.
Are you a good witch or a bad witch?
Uh, wasn't it the Bard who said, "Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so"? Depends. I think I'll choose the option that lets me keep those jazzy ruby slippers! Pagans Who Dress Up As Their Favorite "OZ" Characters! Next on Oprah!
I see your Shakespeare and raise you Abraham Lincoln: "When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad. That's my religion."
I think that would make for an inconsistently profitable whorehouse mission statement, but none of that will matter if we all have implanted RFID chips.
Hello hello again.
Allow me to introduce myself: I'm an ex-Catholic who believes in God but doesn't believe in the church (and yes, the uncapitalized "c" is on purpose).
In addition, I'm a crazed, doomed-beyond-all-hope-of-redemption sci-fi guy, so I can easily imagine the Grandsons of Big Brother hammering chips into our frontal lobes. But then the skeptic in me, who sees the glass of beer as half-empty, says "Why should they bother? That's what advertising is for."
It's good business to warp people's appetites in a specific direction. Do you think it's natural that a redneck wants--no, needs a Hummer that gets three blocks to the gallon?
Can you see the fine print? It's written in invisible ink:
"Don't trust yourself," They say.
"Trust Us."
McChurch understands this, and has been applying these dehumanizing corporate principles for centuries. If you negate the sexual identity of your followers who fervently believe in your theological snake oil, they will follow you anywhere and do anything to quench their hunger.
Feel like masturbating? Say a thousand "Hail Marys". Want a blowjob? Start going to church every night and pull money from the kid's college fund for a fat donation to Our Heavenly Father. Yeah, the neighborhood priest is driving an Audi, but God wants him to.
In his novel, The Fire Next Time, James Baldwin wrote, "The only thing God can do for us is to make us more loving, and to feel better about ourselves. If He can't do that, then maybe it's time to get rid of Him."
But God isn't the problem, is it? It's the pious con man using God as an alibi.
Baby, I used to be a Biblical Revisionary full-contact performance poet - tackle, not touch.
Whatever you do, don't lick that pillar of salt.
I try not to look back because I don't want to be haunted by the person I used to be.
What saved me was being completely and irrevocably brainwashed by the theological bullshit was growing up an African-American in the late 1950's. I mean, Moses shouldn't look like Charlton Heston, y'know? Skepticism is a natural self-defense mechanism in my heritage, especially when you're trying to tell the difference between The Truth and The Truth As Interpreted By The Omnipresent White Patriarchy.
It's also a good idea never to accept a collect call from a burning bush.
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