Posts Tagged ‘Fuck You’

h1

Taking the Easy Way Out: 10 Songs for Your Suicide Soundtrack

August 10, 2010
[This is the first of what may become many archive pulls, in an effort to keep the blog alive while its authors attend to life elsewhere. First published on 02/06/09.]

So you’ve got it all lined up. Time to show the world what it would be like without you. But you need a finishing touch, something to add a shiny rustproofing layer of depth to your most self-centered act yet.

The perfectly chosen song can tell the (cruel) world about your inner pain in ways that a handwritten note riddled with grammatical errors cannot. It will serve as your voice beyond the grave, communicating your essence with a few simple chords and well-chosen words.

With these choices available, you can elevate your simple “cry for help/attention” into an event of histrionic proportions, allowing you to be remembered as something other than “the guy who misspelled ‘cruel.'”

Remember, suicide is a victimless crime, like prostitution, drug use, cheating on your taxes or punching a mime.

The time has come. Push play. Do something nice for yourself.

1. Jesus & Mary Chain – Drop

jamc

This tiny gem of a downer is found nearly at the end of Automatic, in which their drummer was replaced with a more sober and less expensive drum machine. Original drummer Bobby Gillespie was kicked out after repeated requests to play “some of the songs I wrote.” They refused, shoved their guitars thru their amps and told him to “go start his own bloody band.” Thus, Primal Scream was formed and remains somewhat relevant today, unlike the brothers Reid. This quieter number shows off their mediocre acoustic guitar skills to marginal effect.

Key Lyric:

I should have guessed
When I took that pill
Do I love her still
Well did Jesus kill

Method: Gunshot to head at “kill,” thus laying the blame elsewhere. Further distance can be added if death is ruled accidental, i.e. “subject was reported to be cleaning the gun. With his tongue.”

2. Spiritualized – Medication

spir2Rising from the ashes of Spacemen 3 like a smack-soaked phoenix, Spiritualized expanded the blueprint for hazy space rock with the addition of horns, backup choirs and another chord or two. As usual, the lyrics of Jason Pierce (aka J. Spaceman; Jason Bourne) tend to be elliptical and function best as a comedown from a hedonistic night of regret and misplaced nostalgia. Can also be used as a heroin analogue if no actual heroin is available. (Bonus fact: early pressings of Spiritualized albums are considered controlled substances by the DEA.)

Key Lyric:

I’m waiting for a time
When I can be without
These things that make me feel
This way all of the time

Method: Heroin OD at peak. The song kind of comes and goes (much like you’ll be doing), but at 7 minutes and change, you should have time to determine which peak works for you. (Hint: wait for the brass section).

3. Mogwai – Cody

Key figures of the post-rock movement, Mogwai are known for their lengthy instrumentals and unintelligible Glaswegian accents. They have achieved a small amount of success in the States playing before mid-sized audiences composed solely of rock critics, rock bloggers and others who feel lyrics are “giving away the store” when it comes to interpreting music. This particular track features their trademark dynamic shifts and tons of post.

Key Lyric:

It’s an instrumental so you may be forced to do some empathetic humming.

Method: Fistfuls of painkillers and whatever else may be in the parent’s medicine cabinet (caution: “whatever” may contain dangerous levels of estrogen.) Fade slowly away from life, allowing your soul to don Levi’s jeans and run free thru a buffalo-overrun cityscape.

4. Joy Division – In a Lonely Place

joy_divisionThis cheerful group formed during the heyday of punk in Manchester, England. They began as a local blues cover band before sacking Pete Best and replacing him with Steven Morris, who brought a  metronome-like precision to the group. As the band moved on following lead singer Ian Curtis’ suicide, Steven Morris was replaced by a drum machine, who brought a metronome-like precision to the group. This selection, often a popular request at the beer tent, shows a darker side of these fun-loving Mancunians.

Key Lyric:

Hangman looks round as he waits
Cord stretches tight then it breaks
Someday we will die in your dreams
How I wish we were here with you now

Method: Form a suicide pact with three others; be the only one that follows thru, as the rest go on to live increasingly irrelevant lives.

5. m83 – Lower Your Eyelids to Die with the Sun

m83A long, slow-building atmospheric track from French electronic shoegazers, m83. They have gained notoriety on the music festival circuit for their amazing live shows and their ability to spot trainer brand names from upwards of 300 feet. They often sound like a combination of My Bloody Valentine, House of Love and m83. Mostly, though, they sound like m83.

Key Lyric:

Instrumental. Try blinking rhythmically.

Method: Razors, candles, bathtub. Toss powered Korg into tub at 9 minute mark. (The song runs around 11 minutes, so pace yourself. Drink plenty of water.)

6. Dashboard Confessional – Any Song

The story of Chris Carraba and his project, Dashboard Confessional, is a long and uninteresting one. Suffice to stay, Chris sensed a void in the sensitive stud area, wrote some introspective tunes, grabbed his acoustic guitar and sideburns and the rest is history. Or would be, if he would just stop touring and putting out albums. We can only hope. Unfortunately, as long as there is a few thousand people willing to believe each song, produced for mass consumption, speaks to them (and only them), the brand (er, band) will go on. (See also the Cure; the Depeche Mode.)

Key Lyric:

I’m sure they’re all pretty introspective. Take your pick. I’m sure as a fan of the emo scene, you should have no trouble twisting someone else’s personal experience to fit your own. If nothing else, we can thank the emo scene for giving the world a new breed of slightly slimmer goths.

Method: Well, I’m sure you’ve all been practicing already. Just try to hit a major artery this time.

7. Suicide – Frankie Teardrop

suicide1977No group says Suicide like Suicide. Martin Rev and Alan Vega formed their confrontational and controversial band after stumbling across a large stash of amphetamines. They wanted the “least commercial name ever” for their band, but had to settle on their third choice after discovering Rectal Exam Bot and Wilson Philips had already been trademarked. This number was a staple of their confrontational live shows and often lead to death of at least one audience member. Their bleak nihilism and mastery of one key on the keyboards has been highly influential and echoes of their groundbreaking work can be seen in bands as diverse as We Are Wolves, Cabaret Voltaire and Raffi.

Key Lyric:

Frankie teardrop
Frankie put the gun to his head
Frankie’s dead

Method: Fail to adjust to civilian life/fail to adjust to Russian Roulette. (First, not any gun works. You should get a revolver) Note: if leaving the CD out at the “scene,” be aware that some may think you were just trying to leave a caption.

8. Staind – It’s Been Awhile

nurockFeaturing a lead singer who combined the good looks of Billy Zane with the trim figure of Black Francis, Staind brought out a more sensitive side of the nu (aka mook) rock era. This weeper brought them to the top of the charts briefly, before the one-two punch of an overlooked misspelling and Fred Durst’s general unpleasantness brought them crashing to earth. Think of them as a meatier Dave Matthews with fewer sandals and more Red Bull. Where are they now? According to their website, they are in the middle of recording something or other. I really can’t be bothered to do any fact-checking on this.

Key Lyric:

And it’s been awhile, since I can say that I wasn’t addicted
And it’s been awhile, since I can say I love myself as well
And it’s been awhile, since I’ve gone and fucked things up just like I always do
And it’s been awhile, but all that shit seems to disappear when I’m with you

Method: Trying to show your “sensitive side” backfires as you get trolled to death by the infamous /b/. Perhaps those 320×240 Mavica shots didn’t capture the “real you.” Whatever. (Note: Cameras that use floppies for storage cannot support the resolution need to capture inner beauty.)

9. Clubfeet – Teenage Suicide

clubfeetClubfeet bring the best of both worlds with this toe-tapping dirge, bursting with self-awareness, irony and that emotion I understand is called ennui. If you’re on the verge of ending your world with some banging and whimpering and you find yourself dancing along, please reconsider. If you can’t take this seriously, you’ll find yourself perhaps maimed or disfigured, rather than good and dead.

Key Lyric:

Teenage suicide (don’t do it)

Method: Autoerotic asphyxiation, using some amyl nitrate and the Sears catalog lingerie section for stimulants.
(Will the world appreciate your finely honed ironic sledgehammer? Probably not. More likely, your eulogy will will go something like this: “<Insert name here> will always be remembered for his relentless negativity, his uncanny knack for ‘harshing your mellow,’ and, of course, his inability to follow simple instructions.”)

10. Radiohead – Fitter Happier

fitterhappierRadiohead burst onto the scene with “Creep,” a singalong of self-loathing backed by a thunderous chorus of guitar distortion. Much later, TLC paid their dues with a cover. Much, much, much later, Prince did the same at Coachella. In the meantime, the Radioheads experimented with different forms of music and free downloads, much to the dismay of their label. They also scored movies, released solo work and convinced Tom York to drop the extraneous letters from his name. As their thirst for reinvention has not been quenched, look for upcoming work to reflect their broadening horizons, including four nights at the Sands in Las Vegas, Jonny Greenwood’s collaboration with Visanthe Shiancoe and Paul Thomas Anderson for a re-scored and re-shot “Boogie Nights” and the remaining band members waiting patiently at home for the phone to ring.

Key Lyric:

Calm
Fitter, healthier and more productive
A pig
In a cage
On antibiotics

Method: School shooting/turn gun on self. Ignore requests for “Doom music”/mercy.

This list is by no means definitive, but it should give you some inspiration for your grand finale. The shockwaves of your last act should reverberate through the halls of your respective schools/workplaces as your fellow students/coworkers enjoy an unexpected day off. They may even struggle to remember some defining anecdote to sum up your entire existence. Bad poetry will probably be involved.

-CLT

h1

The History of Music Media Postscript: The Future

April 8, 2010

 

Behold! The future of music! Um... keytars... I guess...

Senores y senoras: nosotros tenemos mas influencia.

The music industry is dead. After numerous attempts to kill the industry, it has finally happened.

It took turning music into an infinite good to finally do it. And while that may have cut it deeply, it was the self-inflicted wounds that finished it off.

The endless abuse of the very artists it was supposed to cultivate and protect. Locking musicians into expensive, constraining contracts. An intentionally faulty royalty scheme that keeps artists separated from their money. An entire amalgamation of inept management, vindictive legal battles, rent-seeking that serves to keep ASCAP, BMI, the PRS, the RIAA, etc. rolling in money and a perverse (and thoroughly broken) trickle-down effect that only benefits the top 5%.

As much as the record labels and their accompanying dollar-sniffing dogs would like to return to the rapacious days of the $19 CD and its money-printing ability, it’s just never going to happen. So they force it, suing 14-year-old kids and 80-year-old grandmothers. They send out bills to Mom & Pop stores, cop shops, charities, animal shelters, the Girl Scouts, etc. They browbeat or seduce your elected officials into legislating your rights away and otherwise throw all their energy into tipping the playing field back in the direction of their gaping and insatiable maw.

Perhaps it's too subtle...

Take a quick look at the “business plan” of the performance right groups. They send out bill after bill for bogus “public” performance fees (“public” meaning heard by more than one person). This is nothing more than mass mailing. Spam.

Their methodology is no different from the guy at the bar that asks each passing lady if the like anal sex. Yeah, he’ll take a lot of abuse but sooner or later, he’ll get lucky. And to him, it’s worth the damage to his reputation.

Same thing here. They’ll demand money from anybody and everybody, hoping for a 5% return or whatever. If the public can’t shame them in to stopping or the courts refuse to make them stop, they’ll keep hopping from patron to patron, hoping to get lucky.

They waste their time, money and effort on fighting a battle they have already lost, rather than finding new and better ways to help their artists promote themselves or work within the “constraints” of the digital age.

As long as music is an infinite good (and that’s for the rest of forever, folks), it is self-defeating to thrown your energy into clicking your heels and wishing for 1991.

There are thousands of bands giving away thousands of songs every day, having realized that it’s better to get their music in your ears and their name on your tongues than to bemoan every “lost” sale or play penny-ante royalty poker with the major labels and their legal friends.

Thanks Chain Music Store! I never would have found Dinowalrus without your invaluable flaunting of mainstream artists!

Despite what everyone may be hearing from spoiled rotten artists like Garth Brooks and Bono, there has never been a better time than now to be a musician. No matter how small you are, you can get heard.

In the old brick-and-mortar + mainstream radio world, would you or I ever heard of the bands like Dinowalrus, Micro Titanic, Grave Babies, Whitey, Human People, etc.? If they even made their way into the local Musicland, they likely would have been in and out within days, thanks to sales of $0.

Here’s a message for those who still doubt and fear to cast your pearls before thieving swine. A message for every musician out there who thinks that piracy will deprive them of a livelihood. A message for those who think that the only way to self-sufficiency is through the same routes that have been obliterated by a flood of new options.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?

You can’t sell your music? Well, maybe your product is no good. Maybe you’re not spending enough time promoting it. Maybe you’ve self-imposed a premium on your time and effort that no small amount of money will satisfy.

How can you NOT get your product out?

Case in fucking point: I bought Whitey’s new album from Amazon at 4 am. It took about 5 minutes from beginning to end. By the time I left for work at 4:15, I had it cued up on my mp3 player. And you want to tell me that we should go back to plastic discs? That I should have to wait to whenever it’s convenient for the local music shoppe to open its doors and then, hopefully, have whatever it is I’m looking for?

Another person forgoes the crapshoot of a 9-to-5 for the steady paycheck of a musician.

Message #2:

LOSE YOUR INFLATED SENSE OF ENTITLEMENT.

Since when did becoming a musician become a path to financial freedom? Did your parents ever sit you down and implore you to form a band? “Drop out of college and form a band, son. You’ll be set for life.”

Don’t look to us for sympathy if doing the thing you love has failed to put steaks in the freezer (or veggieburgers or whatever) and a late-model vehicle in the driveway. Many of us don’t even get the chance to do what we really want to. At least you’ll have a few albums or singles out and some gigs under your belt. You went out, got sweaty and drunk and played music for people. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Whatever artistic line you take, whether it’s music, painting, writing, stand-up, etc. is never guaranteed to repay your time and effort. If it does, you’re one of the truly blessed. If not, well, at least you spent some time doing what you loved.

Don’t go down that path. Don’t follow your predecessors in their jaundiced thinking. Their fever dreams of a few hit singles financing their retirements. That a copyright and 12 minutes of music should allow them to want for nothing. It’s sickening to think that your “art” should be used as leverage, as a weapon, against small businesses, charities, animal shelters, etc. If you’re currently riding this diseased gravy train, please, for everyone’s sake: get the fuck off.

Major Labels: It’s too late to adapt. If you hadn’t been so busy squeezing every cent out of music buyers for the last 40 years, you might still have some goodwill left. And it’s not just the fans you’ve been fucking. It’s also a majority of your artists.

The RIAA: If the only trick you have up your sleeve is “We’ll see you in court,” well… there’s just really no hope for you. You assholes don’t even pretend you want to adapt. Fuck you.

ASCAP, BMI, SESAC, the PRS, etc.: The only thing the digital age has done for you is given you the opportunity to attach yourself like remora to any passing revenue stream. Unfortunately, you tend to kill off every stream with your overenthusiastic sucking. You’re nothing but parasites. Spam generators. Aggressive panhandlers.

Good riddance to you all. Musicians don’t need you. Customers never did. You’re as essential and pleasant as a vestigial tail.

-CLT

h1

Leaked! – TSA Internal Memo

February 3, 2010

Making the skies safer, one nap at a time...

To all TSA (Travel Security Administration) personnel:

As America’s last line of defense in the fight against domestic terrorism, we have instituted the following guidelines and procedures to help our frontline personnel stop potential terrorists, preferably before they board the plane. (Once they are on the plane, it’s all in Allah’s hands. Or God’s. Or the Dutch.)

Be aware! At any time, someone could set us up the bomb!

Profiling
To this point, our “if it looks foreign, detain it” policy has served us well. However, some recent minor (but potentially calamitous) glitches have presented us with a chance for improvement. To this end we have devised the following list of “red flags*” to be on the lookout for:

*May also be “orange” or “yellow” depending on current threat level as determined by the NSA’s random number generator. Fun fact: number generator can also be used for office keno games!

Clothing and Accessories

  • Unseasonably warm clothing/loose-fitting clothing – Can hide bomb components.
  • T-shirts with drug references – Implicit support of terrorism/troublemaking punks.
  • Abnormally large purses – Use your judgment. Some women carry these year-round as part of a generally nomadic existence.
  • I “Plane” NY shirts – Just seems wrong in a way we can’t put our finger on/troublemaking punks.
  • Fanny packs, man purses – Anything that can be done to discourage use of these items would seem to be a good idea.
  • Open-toed shoes – Considered “unsafe” in most workplaces, doubly so in a workspace where everyone is forced to breathe the same recycled air. Also tends to indicated “freeminded” hippie types, who have been nothing but trouble since the Nixon administration.
  • Diaper bags – Often filled with deadly fluids, deadly nail clippers/safety scissors, deadly powdered formula and deadly interminable stacks of baby photos.

 

"TSA officials often complete their useless pre-flight screenings by uselessly praying for their passengers' safety."

Mandatory Strip Searches

  • People of a darker complexion travelling with visas
  • People of a darker complexion not named Jose
  • People of a darker complexion named Jose
  • Women rated higher than 7.5 according to hotornot.com
  • Troublemaking, sarcastic bloggers

Suspicious Activities

  • Loitering
  • Twittering
  • Talking loudly into Bluetooth headsets
  • Sexting
  • Bomb or weapon assembling
  • Blogging (especially “live-blogging”)
  • Periphery-circling
  • Post-checkpoint shoe adjusting
  • Gathering of 5 or more people without the proper permit
  • Fieldtripping
  • Raving
  • Masturbating
  • Speed walking
  • Complaint/lawsuit filing
  • Drug dealing
  • General bitching

Look kids! Bomb ingredients! And all of these can be found in your parents' carry-on bags!

Confiscatables
(Note: please post this list inconspicuously and be sure to inform travellers that the forbidden item list is subject to change at anytime, especially if they insist on being indignant or uncooperative. Use the following phrase to defuse tense situations: “You’re about five seconds from travelling to Cleveland in the nude, buster. [Use “bustette” if speaking to a female.]

Remember: Irrational fear is your best weapon. [Note: Feel free to use your actual issued weapon if need be.])

  • Nail clippers
  • Saline solution
  • Homemade snacks
  • Moonshine
  • Explosives
  • Lighters/matches/two sticks/flint/magnifying glasses
  • Laser pointers
  • Snuggies
  • “That smartass mouth of yours”
  • Shoelaces/belts/zippers
  • Off-brand sodas
  • Lifesaving medicine
  • Battery-powered toothbrushes (manual toothbrushes are still allowed)
  • Non-fluff reading material
  • Valid photo IDs
  • Keepsakes
  • Rosary beads
  • Anal beads
  • Wallet-borne prophylactics
  • Manual toothbrushes
  • Opened copies of Microsoft Flight Simulator
  • Artificial limbs
  • 50,000+ frequent flyer miles
  • Black-market kidneys
  • Your dignity

In-Flight Rule Changes
As you know, we are constantly striving for a safer travel experience. To that end, we have made the following changes to our patented “too much, too late” policy of overreaction and obtuseness.

  • Passengers will now line up single file in alphabetical order (last name first) and be led on-board by the on-duty air marshal, whose weapon must remain drawn for the duration of the flight. (Remember to check that the safety is safely in the “off” position for speedier overreaction time.)
  • For the first and last hours of the flight passengers are to remain in a supine, spread-eagled position with fingers interlaced behind their heads. No conversation or eye contact will be allowed.
  • No conversation while the aircraft is in motion.
  • Passengers must ask permission to use the restroom. Tipping your restroom attendant is mandatory.
  • In the likely event of an airborne terrorist situation, passengers are encouraged to “take matters into their own hands” as 1.) it has a proven track record and 2.) your air marshal will most likely be going mano-a-mano with the restroom lock or contemplating a mid-air career change.

Let’s all hope that these changes will lead us into a new era of regulated inefficiency and borderline brutality.

Remember, only YOU* can prevent domestic terrorism!

*”YOU” meaning “us” as a bureaucratic entity with far-reaching power and minimal oversight.

-CLT

h1

The Stabbing Knife Vol. 4 – Bono

January 14, 2010

Not crazy. Just stabby.

[After a 2-month hiatus, the Stabbing Knife returns! And it brought presents! Nice, stabbed little presents! Awww… And yes, I have stabbed before.]

Once upon a time, there was a nice, earnest lad named Bono. He fronted a nice, earnest band who wished to make the world a better place. Or at least improve his own country where, when they weren’t warily eyeing their potato reserves, they were blowing each other the fuck up over religious differences.

Remember this guy? So young and idealistic. And turtlenecked.

But then he grew up. And so did his band. They discarded their veneer of Christianity and set out to become the Most Important Band in the World.

They sold millions of albums and made millions of dollars.

But still Bono’s heart ached.

When he wasn’t busy counting his money or shouldering the weight of the world or getting stuck in a malfunctioning lemon, he was alone in the back of his private jet, hunched over a MacBook writing screeds against Western conspicuous consumption and how to save the planet using his bold, Irish ideals and other people’s money.

And then Bono, head steadily inching its way up his own ass, caught a fleeting, non-anally blocked glimpse at the latest P&L for U2, Inc. and got righteously pissed.

And when he got angry, he got stupid.

We’re used to his manager’s stupidity. Paul McGuinness is an idiot. He’s made a number of dubious claims and attention-grabbing statements in the effort to wring a little more money out of everybody from MSN to random ISPs to Joe Downloader.*

*Not his real name.

Here’s a few choice quotes:

“I suggest we shift the focus of moral pressure away from the individual P2P file thief and on to the multibillion dollar industries that benefit from these countless tiny crimes. The ISPs [internet service providers] the telcos [telecoms companies], the device-makers.”

On Silicon Valley:

“Embedded deep down in the brilliance of those entrepreneurial, hippy values seems to be a disregard for the true value of music.”

Entrepreneurial? Hippies? ???

His theory seems to be that the Internet service providers need to pay because they’re making a ton of money trafficking in illegal downloads.

Let’s do some math: I pay $39.95/month for my internet connection. If I download 0 free music files, I pay $39.95/mo. If I download 25,000 free music files, I pay $39.95/mo. Granted, some ISPs do tiered pricing based on use, but they’re not very popular and they won’t last for long.

Here’s some more.

On Radiohead’s pay-what-you-want release:

“It’s important to remember the traditional worldwide star-making functions of the big record companies. There’s nothing on the horizon to replace that.”

Hmmm. We can just let that one go.

Here’s a beauty:

“I started to glimpse the politics of it at that stage. I hope that our politicians, our journalists, our media gain a sense of how much we stand to lose if free prevails. Ultimately free is the enemy of good. “

...and I said, "Google, find me a metaphoric picture for obtuseness..."

But now Bono’s gone and topped him. In his latest for the New York Times, Bono suggests that we look to China for the solution to pirated media:

“But we know from America’s noble effort to stop child pornography, not to mention China’s ignoble effort to suppress online dissent, that it’s perfectly possible to track content.”

Bono doesn’t need a manager. He needs an editor. He may have thrown the modifier “ignoble” in there, but he still wants the same ends, which will then allow him to justify the means. Or to put it another way, “ignoble” when it affects Bono’s privacy but rather more noble when it’s unleashed on the thieving hordes that are The Internet. 

At what point do you decide that it’s OK for you to hold up (however badly worded) one of the world leaders in “Human Rights Violated” as a solid business model, and even worse, a solid government model?

Who here thinks it would be a great idea for the government to install tracking software on every new computer? Who thinks that the government (and their best friends, big failing media) should have the keys to everything you do online? Does anyone actually feel this will turn out well? That the wrongdoers will be caught and punished and the Most Important Band in the World can begin stocking up on ivory backscratchers again?

Or will it turn into the tragic farce that is today’s mommy-state/fucked legal system that does immensely stupid things like turn “sexting” teens into child-porn possessing sex offenders?

Bono takes a moment to reflect on how truly fucked he is financially.

The overwhelming arrogance and crass stupidity of Bono’s article boggles the mind. Just because your business doesn’t run the way it used to is no reason for you to use your considerable wealth and power to try to legislate and litigate your way back into an acceptable profit margin.

Major labels: you lost. The battle is over and the only thing you can do is lash out by harassing, fining, suing and jailing random individuals. It’s not winning you any more fans and it’s certainly not cobbling together some sort of time machine to the mid-90’s jackpot that was CD sales.

And who bitches about this lost revenue the most? The richest, fattest artists. U2, Metallica, Garth Brooks, the Cure, KISS. All of them mention the “little indie bands” as if those were the ones affected the most.

The indie bands have moved on. The RIAA, ASCAP, BMI, etc. are all taking care of lining their own pockets and the top 5% of their stables.

Bono should know better. He said it himself:

“It’s not the place for rich rock stars to ask for more money, but somebody should fight for fellow artists, because this is madness. Music has become tap water, a utility, where for me it’s a sacred thing, so I’m a little offended.”

I guess he couldn’t help himself. And his advice to the movie and television industries, which he feels are next to be downloaded to death? Do the same shit that didn’t work for us, only harder and faster.

To reiterate: Bono, a singer from a country with serious anarchy leanings, recommends an all-knowing government should start following China’s lead into a bold, new era of human rights violations and privacy invasion. Just so that he and the other top 5% of musicians can finally get more of the money that they’re already getting a sizeable chunk of.

Fuck you, Bono.

Fuck you if for no other reason than you made me end a sentence in a preposition.

-CLT

h1

The Stabbing Knife Vol. 2 – Garth Brooks

October 17, 2009
Roberto prepares for Daylight Savings Time with several stabbing and thrusting exercises.

Roberto prepares for Daylight Savings Time with several stabbing and thrusting exercises.

Garth Brooks is back. Ending eight years of self-imposed retirement to start an open-ended run of shows at the Wynn in Las Vegas, Brooks has dusted off his hat, boots and false sense of entitlement.

Picking up where he left off in 1993, Garth is moaning about how he’s getting fucked by all his freeloading fans. Granted, he does mention other “artists” (of course, none by name) and breaks out his gold-plated hanky for a good old bitchfest.

Brooks prepares for his rigorous Wynn shows by "tripling-up" at their famous buffet.

Brooks prepares for his rigorous Wynn shows by "tripling-up" at their famous buffet.

Our government’s not doing anything about piracy. Until we can hear what a day of radio is like with no music, until this place sits silent because the music creators and the artists and copyright (holders) are not happy because they’re not being protected like everyone else is, then, yeah, I would like that power myself.”

First of all, what the fucking fuck? The government’s not doing anything about piracy? Where in the hell did he get that idea? Did he spend the last 8 years living in a tin-foil coated basement somewhere in Montana?

The government is spending a great deal of time bedding down with ASCAP and the RIAA to make sure that copyright protection continues its steady march to perpetuity. Just last week the House Judiciary Committee approved the hilariously named “Performance Rights Act” which will ensure that radio stations get to pay even more for the privilege of advertising the major labels’ artists.

On top of that ASCAP and BMI are pushing their respective legislators to increase the performance royalty fees that radio stations already pay.

So first the RIAA tags the stations for playing the sound recording and then ASCAP reams them again for royalties due to the musicians playing on the recording. A nice double-dip with all the subtlety of a revolving-door gangbang.

So, obviously Brooks is ill-informed or just genuinely stupid. Let’s flashback to his original enemy: used CDs.

Garth used his considerable weight to blackmail Capitol into blocking shipments of his latest album to stores that sold used CDs. This came back to bite him right in his label’s ass thanks to some anti-trust activity. Despite his best efforts to piss everyone off, In Pieces went on to sell 10 million copies in the U.S. alone.

The end result of 6 months of "cheek sucking" workouts.

The end result of 6 months of "cheek sucking" workouts.

Not content to rest on his huge piles of money, Garth continued to bitch and moan about his hard knock life until he was tossed under the wheels of pop culture with his ridiculous Chris Gaines “concept album,” which touted the soul-patched pop-country  pre=”pop-country “>chubster as a “conflicted artist” who was all angsted-up by life in the public eye.

So what is Garth Brooks’ problem?

Tough to say. According to the RIAA, he’s the best-selling solo artist of all time.

Brooks has sold more than 128 million albums in the U.S., according to the Recoding Industry Assn. of America, second only to the Beatles’ 170 million albums. Brooks has outsold the Fab Four — more than 68 million to the Beatles’ 58 million — in the 18 years since Nielsen SoundScan began monitoring retail sales in 1991, two years after Brooks released his first single.”

Couple that with his lucrative concert tours and the man has to have more money than Oprah Winfrey (or possibly U2).

So why can’t he shut the fuck up and enjoy his success?

Garth appears to be one of those (highly-stabbable) “sore winners” whose life revolves around concerns that his boatloads of millions may be leaking nickels and dimes somewhere. Apparently all the time off allowed him to mellow into a fat, bitter shit who wants everyone to pay for everything, like they used to in the good old days before people could decide what they wanted to do with their purchased property (CDs) or had any choice in how they got their music delivered (single-song mp3 downloads or *gasp* piracy).

Check out his “I showed them” take on his meeting with iTunes:

“Sweet guys. They’ve allowed me to come into their building several times and pretty much tell them how much I didn’t like the system. They listen. But iTunes won’t do what (it) needs to until (musicians) find a way to join together, and show them what an iPod sounds like with no music. … They truly think that they’re saving music. I looked at them right across the table with all the love in the world and told them they were killing it. Until we get variable pricing, until we get album-only (downloads), then they are not a true retailer for my stuff, and you won’t see my stuff on there.”

I cannot fathom how this must sound to him when it comes out of his mouth. I’m sure he feels he’s coming down from Mt. Sinai with the tablets but to anyone else who has actually seen how the real world (and music industry) work now, it must sound like the disjointed ravings of bitter retiree who’s sure the world would be better if we could just go back to the good old days of poodle skirts, lead paint, asbestos and the labels raping you out of $17.99 for a couple of good tracks and 50 minutes of filler.

“Album-only downloads?” I’m sure Garth is invested heavily in Time Machines of America if he thinks he can get a majority of Americans to welcome his “Buy One, Buy ‘Em All” plan. That shit went out with Discmans and Fen-phen.

Garth displays his vestigial opposable thumbs.

Garth displays his vestigial opposable thumbs.

But he’s not through yet. Garth’s mouth has unlimited foot space (possibly due to elective surgery). Here’s his contradictory and pure evil plan for getting back what’s his:

“I’d love to see us get it together, and that’s one of the things for the next five years is to try and figure out how. Athletics has it — anti-trust. That’s the only way these guys get the attention of the leagues they work for. Until we can unionize, until we can bond together, we have no power.”

Pause for breath and some oxygen to the brain. He likes anti-trust but wants to unionize into one group that would oversee the entire record industry, presumably with the power to set prices regardless of market demand and constrict delivery methods. Sounds like a monopoly to me.

Back to King Garth, RIAA mouthpiece and jackass supreme:

“I want us to be able to come together and represent as a whole to tell the nation. … It has to be placed in the right hands, so it can’t be one person, but a board that represents music, its creators and its content owners. I think that’d be more than fair to stand up and say, ‘Look, you’ve ignored us, because there’s 50,000 of us and 300 million voters. You’ve ignored us, and now to show you, we would like to just simply stop for a day,’ and see how dry this world gets.”

Wow.

Garth is no longer just interested in the music-buying public. He now wants 300 million voters to take it in the ass because starving artists like himself are outnumbered and outgunned by Joe Public and his considerable lobbying power.

Hey, public. Meet dictator-for-life Garth Brooks. He’d like to welcome you with a hearty “fuck you” in appreciation for your purchase of 128 million albums during the course of his career.

There is a silver lining to this colossal bullshitstorm: Garth is offering to swing his massive, platinum-encrusted weight around until he gets his way, even if that means pulling all major label music off the radio for an entire day, just to show us stupid “little people” what’s the motherfucking what.

To raise awareness for "totally screwed" multi-platinum artists like himself, Garth Brooks will eat all major label music for one day.

To raise awareness for "totally screwed" multi-platinum artists like himself, Garth Brooks will eat all major label music for one day.

I say let him.

I haven’t listened to the radio in years and there are millions of hours of independent music just dying to fill the void. It would be better for the radio stations, the indie artists and the world in general.

So please please please. Pull that shit off the air. Teach us a lesson, Garth, you spoiled 47-year-old brat. Smack us around with your superiority. Kick us right in our deserving asses with your size 3 jack-boots of cowboy justice (+1). Show your loyal customers that you made them, not the other way around.

Or better yet, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Go home and count your money, you fat bastard. Pile it all into huge stacks, knock ’em over and start again. Go wander your mansion or take one of your several cars (or horses… whatever) out for a spin. Go get a botched tonsillectomy and a good case of tetanus. Whatever shuts you up.

Go Roberto. Get him. Fuck you, Garth.

Sincerely,
Joe Fucking Public
300 Million Strong

-CLT

h1

The Audacity of the Same Old Shit

October 8, 2009
Observers noted that this was one of the few times that Obama leaned to the right.

Observers noted that this was one of the few times that Obama leaned to the right.

As many of you may have noticed, I am way less than thrilled with the current President. It’s not so much the man in the office. He’s just another career politician. It’s what he could have been and how quickly he sold out. Here’s a rather lengthy rundown on why I’m sick of Obama.

Let’s start out at the beginning. Obama is chosen as the candidate for the Democratic party after an extended bitchfest with Hillary Clinton. Clinton makes some odd moves like making up stories about being shot at while out with her husband (the current President) in a hostile nation. What bearing this has on the race is moot, as she is not in the running anymore.

As this event occurs, an amazing groundswell movement takes up the torch for Obama, consisting mainly of uninformed citizens whose voting records would be considered spotty at best and “I last voted when MTV was rocking the vote” at worst.

Everybody wants to get on the bandwagon. Time Magazine spends the entire race publishing one public display of affection after another. Everyone on the internet talks about how “energized” and “hopeful” they are. Even the largely apolitical music blogs I visit start posting adoring articles and spicing up their usual clubland pics with the occasional Obama poster.

So at this point, I’m on guard already. If nothing else, life has taught me that large groups of people who agree on something are generally wrong. (Case in point, Nickelback has sold 30 million albums.)

But let’s look at his opposition. Obama already has most of the country eating out of his hand and McCain is busy running his campaign with all the grace of a 300-lb. club-footed ballerina.

McCain’s campaign was rife with stupid moves like running off on the high road mid-race to get a handle on the shitty economy (“We have no time to campaign! We need to serve the people!“) only to reappear roughly minutes later on the campaign trail (“Fuck the people! I’ve got a race to win! Vote for me in November, people!“).

At the Republican National Convention, McCain decides to outplay the race card by grabbing himself the nearest woman to serve as VP. (“I see your black guy and raise you one woman.”)

By this time the election should have been called on account of candidate ineptitude. McCain clearly wasn’t going to win. And he certainly didn’t deserve to. Throwing him into office would have been like tossing your car keys to Vince Neil.

Obama coasted to victory and claimed the throne. Originally it was just the presidency but the entire world seemed to approve of it so his title was upgraded.

[Full disclosure: I did not vote for Obama. I did not vote for McCain. I sat this one out because write-in candidates (Batman) generally receive less than 4% of the popular vote (Alan Keyes).]

So now we only had a few short months until a young, vigorous black smoker took the helm. I thought, “Well, this is different. Let’s see how this plays out. Maybe he will shake things up with his vitality, charm and second-hand smoke.” If nothing else, it wouldn’t be four more years of being fucked while wrapped in the American flag.

And then he lost me.

Even though he wasn’t officially in office, he made it a point to nudge Bush in the ribs (hard) to get that Big Three bailout money rolling. This happened on November 10th, less than a week after his election.

“Hook a brother up,” he said, referring not to himself, but rather his fine union brothers whose corruption and greed had brought their employers to the brink of bankruptcy. And as RF Interference pointed out, bankruptcy means ditching the union, so that obviously wasn’t acceptable. (“It isn’t.” – Michael Moore)

That was the beginning of the end.

Read the rest of this entry ?

h1

Homeowners’ Association vs. Capitalist Lion Tamer: the Correspondence

October 1, 2009
Well, no one seems to bitching about grass length anymore...

Well, no one seems to bitching about grass length anymore...

[Details from the still-pending case of the Lakewood Estates Homeowner’s Association vs. Capitalist Lion Tamer, which has resulted in one arrest.]

CLT-

Your grass has exceeded the 2″ length as stated in Bylaw 12.3. Please remedy this. Thank you.

Bill Prescott
President
Homeowner’s Association

 

Bill-

Great to hear from you! Thanks for taking an interest in my lawn. A combination of aggressive fertilizers and herbicides has given it the lush fullness that I saw you admiring earlier today.

It’s not often you see a grown man down on all fours (your mileage may vary, Bill). Especially a grown man in the possession of a finely tuned set of calipers. If I ever need to know the exact length of my erect penis, I’ll be sure to borrow them from you.

As for the lawn, I’ve adopted a lassiez faire policy as recommended by the 2002 Kyoto Accords.

Sincerely,
CLT

 

CLT-

I fear my correspondence has not been taken seriously. Your grass has now exceeded 2-3/8″ (as measured at 2 pm today). It must be below 2″ to comply with our bylaws. If this is not taken care of, the Association will cut your grass for you and you will be billed $125/acre. Thank you.

BP

 

Bill-

I feel awful that you think I have not taken your previous letter seriously, and even worse that you’re in fear. I assure you that I mean to comply with your ridiculous request as soon as possible.

In fact, I have been on the horn (it’s a nautical term, landlubber) all day gathering competing bids for a landscaping service. At this point I have narrowed it down to your personal landscaper (Jose) and your son, who has also agreed to write something horrible about you in his journal, and shortly after that, across the garage door. He has also offered to mow “FUCK YOU” into the lawn at no extra charge, but I think that may be a bit much.

Any costs I incur about my usual landscaping budget (currently sitting at $10) will be billed to you.

Cheers!
CLT

 

CLT-

You have 2 days left to comply on the lawn. I have spoken to my son and he is now forbidden to make any contact with you. In fact, he is being sent out to a “boot camp” style teen retreat for the summer.

As for Jose, he is free to do as he pleases, but I would recommend hiring your own lawn care professional. This should help you (and him) avoid any sticky “conflict of interest” issues.

Thank you again for your prompt attention.

BP

 

Bill.i.Am-

I have spoken to Jose. He seems to understand that working for me may jeopardize his continued employment with you. This doesn’t seem to bother him at all. I have offered him shorter working hours and the opportunity to work for someone less officious and anal.

I also pointed out that marrying your daughter would expedite his acquisition of a green card. We’re going bowling Thursday and hope to have that plan hammered out by the end of the evening.

I’ve also filed a preemptive lawsuit on behalf of your son’s eventual physical abuse at the boot camp. I also mentioned that he might be slightly less creepy if he didn’t insist on carrying around that video camera at all times, no matter how many “interesting” wind-blown plastic bags would go undocumented.

Riposte!
CLT

P.S. I realize that I have forgotten to discuss the current state of my lawn in this correspondence. Sorry for the oversight.

 

CLT-

I had hoped to reach an amicable solution, but your juvenile correspondence leads me to believe this will be impossible. The lawn service will be over to take care of your grass at an estimated cost of $189.

I am also considering filing a harassment suit, unless you would be willing to apologize and sign a statement agreeing to stay away from my family.

BP

 

Bob-

I’ve reached an agreement with Jose. He will mow your yard beginning at 3 am (this will include edging) before continuing on to mine, beginning roughly around 6 am.

I am planning to show my solidarity for the “working man” (Jose) by playing my Clash albums at an incredibly loud volume, also beginning at 3 am.

If you’re up, why don’t you come over and knock back a few shots with me? We can bullshit for a bit while Jose touches up the lawns. I feel like we never got to know each other, despite the fact that we live in adjacent houses.

Viva la revolucion,
CLT

 

(Phone call)

CLT: Hello?
BP: CLT? This is Bill.
CLT: Oh. Hey, Bill. What are you doing up this early? You should come have a shot. I’ve had several.
BP: Why in God’s name is Jose mowing my lawn right now?
CLT: Sorry, Bill. I’m having trouble hearing you. Some kind of buzzing noise coming from your end. Is someone mowing your lawn?
BP: Yes, goddamnit! Jose is—
CLT: Once again, Burl, having trouble hearing you. Let me turn down the stereo a smidge.
BP: I SAID—
CLT: Listen, Brett? I’m going to put you on speakerphone so I can wander around the house while pretending to listen to you.
BP: Look. I think this has escalated past my jurisdiction. I may have to get local law enforcement involved, if for nothing else than a noise complaint.
CLT: I hear ya’, Bob. I don’t think anyone expected them to be 0-3 at this point in the season, but that’s why they play the games.
BP: What??? It’s “Bill,” by the way. I said I’m going to need to call—
CLT: Hang on, Brian. Armagideon Time? Holy shit! I haven’t heard this in years!
BP: Did you just turn it up?!?
CLT: Anyway, you should come do a shot or two. Jose’s having one.
BP: Tell him to get his ass back over here!
CLT: He says, “No habla prick.”
BP: That little fucker! CLT! I’m going to call the police! I’m not going to warn you again!
CLT: I know. They’re awesome. They were so far ahead of their time. Shame about B.A.D. and B.A.D. II. They just sort of sucked.
BP: I’m calling the cops.
CLT: Good news, Billy! I think we have hit on a solution here! Jose has agreed to burn my lawn to the ground and salt the earth. He can do yours next!
BP: (Hangs up)

-CLT