Saturday, November 21, 2009

This Is Making Insanely Good Sense To Me

It’s an argument and discussion, which has been going on as far back as I can remember. I can recall one specific time when I got trapped in the cycle six years ago during my senior year of college. Both sides make their points, both sides are valid, and yet, understandably, there was no outcome or decision on who’s correct. In fact, most of this article will be old hack for a lot of you.

The argument lies along the Mason-Dixon line of “hate-speech”. I put the phrase in quotation marks because the words which I will be speaking about in the following lines aren’t directed at anyone in particular, and if my typing these words offends you in any way, it means my side has already won.

I’m going out on a limb here and assuming everyone who reads this has at one time or another used one of these words to insult one or several of their friends; or used one of these words on me. I certainly have called people assholes, bitches, cunts, shit stains, and (in the instance of this piece) fags. Obviously, I use these words to describe my friends. Not to be taken in a menacing manner. When I call Joe Child a bitch, I’m not insinuating he’s a female dog, nor is he a spiteful woman. He’s being a bitch: a guy with a weak backbone. I would never use this to describe a woman. Who hasn’t called that dick that cuts them off in traffic an asshole and not meant it in the literal, anatomical terminology?

Last Wednesday, my good friends Trey Parker and Matt Stone wrote a little treatment for their award-winning television show South Park to attack, rather, discuss the stigma surrounding the infamous word: FAG. I feel they did an excellent job with the issue, pointing out the absurdity of a word whose definition constantly changes and its usage in every day life when it doesn’t pertain to hate-speech against the gay and lesbian community.

Unfortunately, the Gay & Lesbian Alliance Again Defamation (GLAAD) doesn’t feel the same as I do:


Though this seems to represent a well-intentioned effort by the creators of South Park to de-legitimise a vulgar anti-gay slur, the fact is that the word is and remains a hateful slur that is often part of the harassment, bullying and violence that gay people, and gay youth in particular, experience on a daily basis in this country.

This is a slur whose meaning remains rooted in homophobia. And while many South Park viewers will understand the sophisticated satire and critique in last night’s episode, others won’t – and if even a small number of those take from this a message that using the “F-word” is OK, it worsens the hostile climate that many in our community continue to face.


First off, all of you should know by now, South Park’s bread and butter lies in pointing out the absurdity (read: stupidity) of life by pissing off every faction of the community. There have been episodes I have watch which have offended me, but still make me laugh. Like the show says, you either make fun of everyone, or you make fun of no one.

This has happened once before when the “Church” of Scientology tried to get the “Tom Cruise Will You Please Come Out Of The Closet” episode pulled. They laughed at the episodes which bashed Catholicism, or the point in every episode where Cartman berates Kyle for being Jewish. That’s okay, but when their cult loving followers are attacked, that’s off limits. Which is probably why the creators made an entire season to poke fun at the false religion, capping it off with the Family Guy two-parter. (If you haven’t seen the episodes, watch them, I’m not explaining everything, and besides, you should be watching the show anyway.)

With GLAAD publicly coming out (no pun intended) against the episode so strongly, they are giving South Park more power. They’ve won. Parker and Stone have won.

Second, the word isn’t rooted in homophobia. The word originates in sixteenth century England and described an old or unpleasant woman. Then in the nineteenth century, the term referred again to the old women who made a living gathering firewood, such as in the phrase "faggot-gatherer”. Later, the term faggot evolved to describe the actual bundle of sticks, and more specifically, a bundle of sticks meant for burning, as in at the stake. There is no history of homosexuals being burned at the stakes for their sexual preference, but it is believed the modern, negative connotation of the word comes from the idea women who were believe to be witches were burned at the stake, accused of homosexual behavior.

In the case of the South Park episode, Parker and Stone, and their bratty animated counterparts, use the fag to describe “[a]n extremely annoying, inconsiderate person most commonly associated with Harley riders”. Sans the Harley riders part, the way I, along with many of my educated contemporaries, use the word fag (and faggot) in the way the previous definition dictates.

Finally, you must remember these words meant for use by adults. To paraphrase Lewis Black, if there was a hurricane, you wouldn’t get upset and use the word “pussy feathers” to describe how you feel, you would most likely say, “holy fucking shit!” Swear words or cuss words or whatever you like to call them, are words meant for educated adults. (I use the word educated because only an ignorant fuck would use any of these words to be truly hateful to a fellow human being.) Plus, just remember, they are just words. Unless you give them power, they are meant a collection of letters put together phonetically. Until you place hatred and spitefulness behind them, they are just words.

As Louis C.K. states: “I would call a gay guy a faggot if he was being a faggot.” It’s not meant negatively toward the “gay guy”; if a homosexual is being an extremely inconsiderate person, he’s going to let him know. And if any of you act like faggots, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Freedom is slavery, and war is the peace that I know…

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Silence

Finally, after eight years, I had the distinct pleasure to be in the same room as Daryl Palumbo, Justin Beck, Durijah Lang, and Manuel Carrero, better known to the layperson as Glassjaw. It was an experience, rivaling some of the best live shows I’ve seen.

To get the crowd in the right headspace, the RX Bandits opened the show. Trapped somewhere in the Bermuda triangle of Mars Volta, Bob Marley, and The Who reside the RX Bandits. Sadly, a description like that doesn't do the Bandits justice, mainly because after fifteen years, they’ve earned the right and honor just to be mentioned by name to my fans (ha!) and you should all know the awesomeness that is the RX Bandits. I close this quick paragraph by saying the RX Bandits sounded perfect.

But now to the men of the hour (or actually two hours, because that is how long their set lasted).

Their set list was a blur. Renditions of Mu Empire, Pretty Lush, Tip Your Bartender, and The Gilette Cavalcade Of Sports, sprung forth like gospel from the speaker system at the little independent record store warehouse in Pomona, California better know as the Glasshouse. Nothing during my two-hour drive through side streets on my way to Pomona could have readied me for what GJ had in store.

Known for their habit of canceling shows since Palumbo’s diagnosis with Crohn’s disease, I was constantly worried my dream of seeing GJ live might not come true. I’ve been a fan of Glassjaw from the moment I first spun Worship and Tribute on my old CD player in college. Having gotten cancelled on when I was living back in Philadelphia, I had yet the privilege to see these, dare I say, legends of hardcore in the flesh.

On November 12, 2009, this night, the dream finally came true. And Glassjaw did not disappoint. From note one Glassjaw was on point, and for the next two hours I lived and breathed every inch of madness, which spewed forth from that stage. Palumbo’s voice was all over the place, as it should be, ranging easily from a calming croon to an eardrum-shattering scream. Justin Peck’s guitar work was superb. I was a little weary the songs might lack something with only one guitar in the mix, but not one detail was missed. Lang and Carrero filled out the remaining noise with tireless perfection, layering each song with the right amount of backbone and power.

Against my better judgement, I took my aging body deep into the pit. I’ve been avoiding the pit my last few shows because my body can’t recover as fast as it used to after the massive pounding it usually takes. However, after missing my chance to dance last time around, and unsure of when the next dance will come, I ran immediately to the center of the recently awakened giant. I pushed and shoved with the best of them. I made a few passes in the mosh pit, luckily receiving only one fatal blow during the last moment of the last song, a quick elbow to the nose signifying not only the end of the show, but possibly the end of my career in the pit crew.

It could not have been a better time to call it quits. I emerged from the Glasshouse, hair matted down like I just broke through the surface of a swimming pool, shirt soaked to the core such as after a hard days labor, and shoes once colored purple and blue now remain the cool color of sludge.

My body ached, my neck killed, and my shins are bruised.

And it was all worth it.

My Turkish prison is knowing I fit in… And, and, I fit in…

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

I Gotta Fart, So I'm Gonna Come Over And Stand Next To You

Twenty-Five Random Things You May Or May Not Know About Me.

Like my most influential albums composite, this is another list I’ve wanted to jot down for a while. My good friend Ed (the master of flavor and texture) came up with his list a few months ago, and I meant to respond to it, but had a hard time coming up with enough things. So in my time off, I’ve finally completed it. Here goes…

1. My sister is my best friend and the most important person in my life. Fuck with her, you die.

2. If I were only allowed to wear one shirt for the rest of my life, it would be my “Outback Steakhouse All-Stars” T-shirt.

3. I still collect CDs. Nothing can replace the excitement, fighting through the plastic wrap to see the album artwork for the first time.

4. I don’t believe in reincarnation. If I’m wrong, in my past life, I believe I was a grizzly bear.

5. I fall in love really easily, but falling out, not so much. I get my heart broken often.

6. I have very few friends from childhood. I’ve left most of them behind. I don’t miss them, but I do thank them for all I’ve learned from them and the good times we had.

7. My favorite food is pierogies. My second favorite is my grandmother’s meatballs, which my cousin Shawn and I compete to see who can eat the most. I always win.

8. Music is what powers my life. It’s moves me more than any other force on earth.

9. I’ve been in one real fight in my life, and got my ass kicked.

10. I collect key-chains from all over the world. My favorite is from Japan.

11. I have a good friend from college named Charles Charlesworth. Seriously.

12. I never lie and have a bad habit of being too honest. It messes things up more than you think.

13. I love crappy TV dramas, and I don’t care you all think they’re awful.

14. I have a fear that if someone touches my belly button, it will become untied and all my guts will spill out.

15. Running is my meditation. There is nothing that helps me unwind more than a nice five-mile run.

16. I celebrate my birthday for twenty days. July Fourth begins my “birthday season”.

17. Is scared of going bald, mostly because I look like a tool with short hair.

18. I’m not really all that concerned with the future. I know what’s going to happen. The adventure lies in how I get there.

19. I accomplish more when people tell me I CAN’T do something. I love being the underdog.

20. My favorite TV shows as a kid were The Honeymooners and I Love Lucy.

21. I've never had a problem which either PBR, great friends, or a good concert couldn't solve.

22. I hate being alone; it makes me uncomfortable. I thrive through my relationships with others.

23. I don’t remember anything before the age of fourteen except kissing a girl in kindergarten and about ten minutes of my first day of first grade.

24. I am a detail-oriented person, yet the biggest decisions of my life have been made on a whim.

25. After twenty-eight years, I am finally comfortable in my own body, truly believe I have completely discovered myself, know exactly what I stand for and believe in, and am very proud of the person I’ve become. I can’t wait to share this with somebody special.

If a leader preaches worship to the sheep within the valley, who'll be riding in a tank that says "just married"?...