July 27
My grandmother gave me this plant to keep the 100 year old plant (which has survived through a gnat infestation! That is one badass plant!) company because, as you all know, succulents aren't friendly, and things have been pretty chilly, here between 100yo and jade. This little plant (me: "These leaves are chubby!! Isn't this a succulent?? Won't IT snub the old plant, too?" her: "Don't be silly. It's succulent, but NOT VERY.") has little flowers on it. That won't last. Me and flowering plants do not get along.
You all suck. You suck because only ONE of you wrote to me about the flesh recipe. Instead you were all "How will you press the button if you have no arms? How? How how? That doesn't make any sense!! Everyone knows that DETACHABLE arms are the way to go!!" It was like arguing about Star Trek, so rabid you all were. Man. Plus, I can't believe you weren't into the rubber plane. I thought that was genius. I am ahead of my time. I don't expect any of you to get it.
There's a bookstore near my house (well, it's as near as anything is to anything in Connecticut: a few miles) called "The Book Barn". No. It's not really only called Book Barn. It's something like Whitlock Farms Booksellers, which is really nothing at all like "Book Barn", however, they sell books, in a barn. Hence Book Barn. They are also a farm, evidenced by the gigantic frightening horses strolling around ready to chew off your face and pluck babies from your arms without the slightest provocation. But I digress. There is a Book Barn near my house. The whole concept of the place wouldn't fly in New York. First, there is a main building (small, red, airconditioned). That is where the rare books are kept. The map books from 1888. The blueprints to cities in Connecticut that don't even exist anymore. It's where the cash register is. The second building (the BARN, see?) is where the real books are. By real books, I'm talking the fiction, the books of poetry, the softcovers. The sci-fi. The language books from 1955 ("Teach yourself Japanese!" "Europe for 1 Penny a day, the 1967 Way!").
The books are varied and cool. The room is almost always empty and that book smell, that old book smell specifically, takes over everything. In here, you'll find those shitty books written by first time authors who are funny enough in real life, witty enough in real life that their friends just insisted they write a book, go, write it, right this minute because it'll be a hit it'll be so, so funny, and then they slave away in front of their word processor night after night with their thesaurus close at hand to give them words better than the ones they know, new words they use awkwardly because they, deep in their heart of hearts know, like a whisper they hear every night, right before they fall asleep "you are not a very good writer"--you'll find these books, the unedited copies of books that never make it past that stage, thankfully, with photos and press releases and advanced interest and reviews from other bad, unknown writers saying things like "Such and Such presents us with a rollicking, hilarious look at modern love, women, and relationships! Bravo, Such and Such! An amazing first book by an amazing new author!" There are shelves and shelves of those books at the Book Barn.
In any case, I write of the Book Barn only because I'm trying to give you an idea of what it offers. Several months ago, I took a ride out there with my grandmother who'd been lamenting the fact that there was no where near her to get cheap disposable paperbacks. "Ah-hah!" I said. "I have your answer. It is Book Barn!" and off we went. So, that last time I found amongst the piles and stacks a book about embracing the Jehovah Witness lifestyle and how to slip tracts into people's mail and shit. I am a freak for books like that, in case you weren't aware. Anyhow, THIS PAST time we went, I found the book that Changed My Life. No, it did. It cost 25 cents and it changed the way I think. Hell, it changed everything. Because it was so powerful and moving, I thought it only fair to share some highlights with you, My People. You can thank me later.
Okay, this is going to have to go in little installments, because there's far too much to learn and absorb here for just one sitting. You will have to read and study what I put down for you today, and then wait anxiously, praying your little hearts out for forgiveness because, listen here buster, Jesus sees that Kansas record you've got hiding under your pillow. The Lord knows all about that milk carton of Mountain and Foghat 8 tracks, so don't think you're fooling Him, you devil loving sex pervert!
Part 1:
Your Kids and Rock. Bob Larson.That's all for today. I think it's perhaps worth noting that anyone who is actually worshiping the devil isn't going to fucking jabber about it on an album. These nutbag religious ("This may sound fanatical because IT IS!") zealots are misinformed and sad. However, they're full of chuckles, so stay tuned!
Introduction:
THE BEAT GOES ON
You're reading a book in the den. You try to ignore the booming beat upstairs. Why can't your daughter listen to soft, soothing music, the kind you enjoy? It would prepare her mind better to do algebra equations...You open the door. She's seated at the desk with her back to you. Bouncing up and down in the chair, she occasionally uses the pencil....There's the stereo, and there's the plug. Pull it, and tranquility will be restored to your home...
Remember, you allowed those records in your home in the first place. What if your heavy disciplinary hand creates rebellion rather than submission? You need to understand the appeal of the beat, and you need to understand names and terminology. When you discuss music, teenagers become defensive. They're looking for semantic blunders to negate your opinions of their musical tastes. Calling Phil Collins hard rock (he's not) or assuming that every group lays down primitive, unsophisticated beat patterns (Journey does not) may be the mortal sin that shuts down communication.
(Note: Here I'd like to point out that neither Phil Collins nor Journey should be considered music, even. Thank you. Let's continue!)
THE BEAT'S THE THING:
One thing can't be overemphasized: The focus of rock is the beat. Despite variations and transitions, rock's essential beat survived. Whatever harmonic, melodic or verbal sophistication rock may contain, its appeal is its simple, rhythmic, pounding beat.
An incessantly driving, pulsated beat pattern is not inherently evil, but when applied for a protracted period of time at high volume, it can be hypnotic at live concerts. Like any repetitious assault on one's neurosensory apparatus, it can shut down conscious mental processes (Okay, look, if your conscious mental processes shut down at a concert, you know why, right? It's because YOU ARE DRUNK) . This is the same technique used in Eastern meditative discipline like Transcendental Meditation. The result is a heightened suggestibility to images and messages. Rock audiences can be almost hypnotized by the performers and if the performers are conveying such messages as "Sex is everything!" "Down with authority!" or "Life is meaningless, so have fun and die young!"....adults with an ingrained value system might not be affected at all ....but children and teens are fair game for any message pounded home with a driving beat..
Do you understand now why your child is so caught up in the beat? It's not just noise. It's a carefully constructed rhythm captivating their bodies and capturing their minds. Because of the high-energy world in which you are raising them, they have developed a physiological affinity for the beat. (...)
IS GAY OK? (I don't actually think I can think of a thing to say about this, it cracks me up so much)
Unless you've been living in Outer Mongolia, ("Dear, go get me the map. No, not THAT map, that has AFRICA on it. Get me the WHITE, CHRISTIAN map! There, that's better! Let me look for something far, far away. How about Idaho? No. That's too close. Uhh...New Jersey. No, I'll bet there are Jewish Persons there. I've got it, OUTER MONGOLIA. No one lives THERE!") you know only too well that today's child is faced with unprecedented homosexual influences. Keeping your child straight is no longer an assured outcome of child-rearing.
I have yet to meet the most liberal parent who wanted his child to become a homosexual. The gay life-style is an ongoing exercise in frustration, emotional ruin (That might be true. I used to catch that sack of crap RuPaul show on TV and it was pretty taxing, emotionally) , and, with the coming of AIDS, a downright threat to life. With homosexuals coming of the closet to assault society's morals, it was inevitable that rock music would deal with gay life-styles.
David Bowie is a well-known British singer/composer/guitarist who, in the past, boasted of his bisexuality in interviews and songs. He rose to fame over a decade ago, sporting orange hair and laced high-heeled boots, moving effeminately to a rock beat (hah! that's damn funny). Bowie portrayed acts of copulation on stage with other males while singing homosexual songs like "Queen Bitch."
On a sellout world tour in 1984, Boy George flaunted his bisexuality by announcing during the concerts that he would "like to sleep with each member of the audience individually." The cover of the album Waking Up with the House on Fire showed George with heavy makeup and a mane of luxurious red hair. (Okay, George is beautiful. With and without makeup. That hair? That makeup? Tell me you didn't want it. I was 13. This was right after my Def Leppard obsession. George looked fierce.)
Elton John, pop music's talented pianist with the enormous glasses, has been fairly outspoken about his sexual deviations ("here, sheepy sheepy sheepy...") . He was involved for many years with his lyricist, Bernie Taupin. (Uh, hello. that's a no shitter. They were musical partners. Hence, "involved". Any buttplay going on was just a happy bonus.)
The gay duo the Communards mixes leftist politics with disco rhythms, including on their 1988 album Red the song "There's More to Love Than Boy Meets Girl"
Satanic Rocking
If your son walked into the house with The Satanic Bible under his arm, it would go straight to the trash can. But is the stereo in your child's room an altar to darkness that dispenses the devil's liturgy? (note: emphasis entirely mine, it sounded cooler that way)
This may sound fanatical. (heh, really?) After all, rock is heard everywhere today. Could anything so pervasive be sinister? (well, I am!) Be prepared for a jolt.
The list of entertainers who have ventured into the occult reads like a Who's Who of rock royalty. Elton John's lyricist, Bernie Taupin (note: this is the second Bernie Taupin mention. I think that John Larson has a little fetish going on. Remember: Bernie Taupin wrote Crocodile Rock, so he's clearly evil, but he also raised over 4 million dollars for AIDS Project Los Angeles) once decorated his walls with satanic art (?) and said "The occult fascinates me:. A German band went to the extreme of calling itself Lucifer's Friend and offered fans "devilishly good rock'n'roll," calling one release "the demonic new album." (That DOES sound terribly evil, doesn't it? And Lucifer's Friend have done so well for themselves, haven't they?)
Foremost rock occultist Ritchie Blackmore (how does one become a FOREMOST rock occultist? Can I become a FOREMOST JOURNALING OCCULTIST?) of Deep Purple (another band still right up there in the public awareness...) admits he has attended seances to "get closer to God" and sometimes leaves his body (astral projection) to float about the concert hall during performances. ("Hey! Ow! What the fuck was that? Goddammit, he kicked me in the back of the head! Quit it, you fuckhead and get back up on stage!!") He has recorded in a seventeenth-centruy castle supposedly haunted by a demon, who is a servant of the Babylonian god Baal. (And that's bad because....?)
Formerly the lead guitarist for Led Zeppelin, Jimmy Page runs a close second to Blackmore in occult inclinations. Page once owned an occult bookstore and revered the late, infamous British spiritualist Aleister Crowley. Noted for murders and sexual perversion, Crowley was so evil he renamed himself the Beast 666. (From this point forward, I would like to be addressed as The Fluffy Little Poodle Head, 790. Thank you.)
Fleetwood Mac also flirted with the occult. ("Hey, baby, you are looking FINE! Have you lost some weight? Would you like a drink? Those are nice pants, they'd look nicer on my bedroom floor!") Their hit "Rhiannon" was about a Welsh witch. Singer Stevie Nicks has dedicated songs during concerts to "all the witches of the world." (Yes. That means she's a FLAKE, not a devil worshiper. For shit's sake, look at how she dresses)
Few groups could top the Rolling Stones for displays of blatant interest in evil. One of their early albums was entitled Their Satanic Majesties Request. For the cover, they posted as witches . A Richard-Jagger composition, "Sympathy for the Devil" became an unofficial satanic anthem (really? I just thought just was another annoying Stones song, like all the others)
The ultimate Stones embodiment of dark images came on their album Goat's Head Soup, part of which was recorded at a Haitian voodoo ritual. Behind the music are heard screams from those who are becoming possessed of evil spirits. One song "Dancing with Mr. D.," describes a graveyard romp with the devil. A color picture inside the album shows a severed goat's head floating in a boiling cauldron. The goat's head is the universal symbol of Satan worship. (Doesn't that sound FRIGHTENING? Doesn't is sound HORRIFYING? Aren't you SHITTING YOURSELF with terror?)
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