I Was Sayin' Let Me Outta Here...

Hey, punk fans, did you know Lou Reed liked asking people to shit in his mouth? Or that Nico gave Iggy Pop his first case of the clap? Or that Patti Smith tried to steal band members from Blondie? Do you know what a Twat Vibe Eye is? If you didn’t know any of that, but are intrigued and/or titillated nonetheless, you need to read Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk as soon as humanly possible. This book has everything you ever wanted to know (and some things you probably didn’t) about the early east-coast punk scene in the states. The farthest west the authors go is Detroit, so you’re not going to find any Black Flag or Adolescents in here. But if CBGBs is where it begins and ends for you, this is your bible.

For those of us who weren’t around back then, Please Kill Me… is a play-by-play of the who, the what, and the why, straight from the people who actually were there. This isn’t your standard history book either (that wouldn't be very punk, now would it?); the entire narrative is constructed from snippets of interviews that were conducted over several decades, all ordered chronologically. Iggy Pop, The Stooges, Nico, Lou Reed, Patti Smith, The Ramones, The Dead Boys, The New York Dolls, Richard Hell, The MC5, Malcolm McLaren…these are just some of the people included. And the title’s not kidding. This really is the uncensored history of the early scene. It’s like going back in time and reading Star or US Weekly of the punk world 'cause people don’t hold anything back in these interviews. They talk shit about each other constantly and once you’ve got one version of a story, the authors bring in the other people involved and you get their side of the story, leaving it up to the reader to decipher what actually happened. Not that it really matters. The stories are endlessly entertaining regardless of how true they are.

You’ll need something to listen to while you’re reading, so why not pick this up as well?


Seriously, if Please Kill Me… makes you want to cover your walls in spray painted anarchy symbols, this is pretty much essential listening. You get 100 tracks of the best early punk ever recorded, all in one convenient package. If you’re like me, this music doesn’t just get under your skin, it makes you want to crawl out of it. Let these guys stick with the heroin though - you can put on some headphones and mainline this without the nasty side effects (withdrawal will set in if you go too long between listens). It also comes with a nice book giving you a few essays and bios on the bands involved. Rhino doesn’t skimp on their box sets to begin with, which means this is totally worth the price, but it’s been out for several years now so chances are you can score a used copy on the cheap if money’s tight.

Just set aside a few extra bucks for a new studded belt. You’re going to need one by the time you’re done.

To whet your appetite:



And:



Can't wrap it up any better than this (volume is crazy low, so turn your speakers all the way up...it's worth hearing, I promise):

It's That Time

If you didn’t attend one yourself, you probably heard on the news/read on the internet that this past weekend was the annual Gay Pride Parade season.

Inevitably, whenever anyone mentions a pride parade, the first thing I always hear people ask is, “Why pride parades? Why flaunt yourselves and throw your lifestyle in everyone’s face like that?” If you don’t feel like reading this whole thing I’ll give you the short answer: Because our Pride is in direct opposition to the Shame you want us to feel. Let me clarify right from the start that I don’t necessarily mean “you” as in the person reading this, so don’t get all defensive on me. When I say “you” what I’m referring to is our current culture at large. The culture where it’s okay to have a gay best friend as long as said friend doesn’t get married. Or adopt kids. Or kiss her girlfriend in front of you. When you stop and think about it, our “flaunting” is the same thing you take for granted every second of every day. You ask why we have these parades? Let me ask you how many times you’ve kissed your significant other in public? How many times have you held hands or snuggled on a park bench? For a big chunk of the LGBT community, these gatherings are the ONE DAY of the year they get to do the same thing without fear of some asshole gunning for them. All that stuff you get to do for 365 days? They get one. How would that make you feel?

So, “Why pride parades?” I don’t want to sound trite, but if you have to ask then chances are you’ll never know. People can tell you about the harassment, the being alienated from your family, the fear of losing their job, the paying the same taxes but not having the same rights, the being assaulted, or the watching friends die (by their own hand or someone else’s), but unless you’ve experienced something similar firsthand those are just words. It’s an over simplification, but if you’re a member of Straight White Middle Class America, chances are you’ve never had to deal with any of that stuff. Which is unfortunate because it gives you a whole new perspective on how the world really works and just how much you take for granted. To give you a point of comparison, you know that sense of indignation you get when someone cuts in front of you in line? Picture that, only all day. Every day.

Even from within the gay community I hear a lot of people saying that these parades/rallies are outdated and don’t serve a purpose anymore. They claim that the leather guys and Dykes on Bikes just reinforce negative stereotypes and hurt our fight for inclusion. I honestly used to think that same thing but I’ve since realized that I couldn’t have been more wrong. To those that say it hurts our fight for inclusion - I say fuck inclusion. This is the one day we get to totally be ourselves. What’s the point of fighting for acceptance if we have to lie about who we are? So what if it reinforces negative stereotypes? That guy walking down the street wearing nothing but a jock strap and stilts deserves just as much respect as you do, and if you don’t think so maybe you should take a step back and get your priorities straight. These parades are an important reminder that in our push for acceptance we have to make sure we’re not sacrificing who we are along the way.

I mentioned the issue of stigma a few posts back, and events like these are one way of mitigating that. Depending on where a person lives, a pride parade could be the only threadbare lifeline in that sea of constant negative images. This is especially true if that person is young.

If you’ll tolerate a little nostalgia here, we can take a journey together back to the 90s. Buffy was in her first season of slaying vampires, trip hop was all the rage, those huge parachute jeans were everywhere, and I attended my first gay pride parade. I was still in high school and I’d been out of the closet since the 9th grade, but at the time I was one of the few, if not the only, openly gay kids at my school. Even though I was the butt of a lot of verbal harassment and flying objects in the hallways, I didn’t have it that bad compared to a lot of other LGBT kids. I had a strong group of supportive friends and we didn’t hesitate in telling everyone to fuck off if they had a problem, but I still looked forward to that parade like you wouldn’t believe. Here was a whole day devoted to people like me. For once, here was a place where I wouldn’t be the only one. Plus, the Murmurs were playing.

I will never forget the feeling of walking through those gates. It sounds dramatic and clichéd but a weight was lifted. I knew the second I walked back out at the end of the day that weight would be back, but for those few precious hours it was gone. That’s the tricky thing about stigma: even if you’re aware of what’s going on you’re still constantly fighting and pushing against the messages. You’re trying to hold your head above the water and it’s exhausting. So these events are like water wings. While you’re there you can just kind of float for a while and relax. If these events served no other purpose, they would still be worth every penny and every second of time they took to plan.

While these events help a person relax, they also help energize. You can look around and see not only what you’re fighting for but also who you’re fighting for. It’s not just about you and your struggle anymore; it’s about a whole community standing side by side. Maybe it won’t last beyond that day, but that sense of solidarity is very real and very powerful. It may look like “flaunting” from the outside, but this is our chance to say, “Guess what world? Despite your best efforts we’re not going anywhere without a fight.” There are also tons of political groups and petitions and campaigns, which is a great way to learn about other causes worth fighting for. So yeah, when you leave for the day that weight falls back in place, but it might not seem so heavy because you’re not carrying it alone anymore. I know it made a difference for me.

So, “Why pride parades?” Because we’re mad as hell and we’re not going to take it anymore? Because we’re just trying to show the world how we live our lives? Because we just want the same rights and respect as everyone else? Because we’re here, we’re queer, and you should get used to it? The parade’s my day off, so you’ll have to figure it out. But when you do, feel free to join the fun.

I couldn't help myself:

A Few Quick Things

After that angry rant, I thought it would be appropriate to provide you with some soothing music this time around. There’s been a lot of hype surrounding it this week, but after listening to it several times I can say Karen Elson’s The Ghost Who Walks (pictured above) deserves every bit of it. This album is fantastic. The music styles range from lo-fi rockers, to folk, to country, and combinations thereof, and Karen Elson’s voice is perfect for the mournful, often murderous tales she spins. I don’t like to compare artists against other artists, but if you enjoy the Murder Ballads side of Nick Cave and the vocals of Mazzy Star or the Cowboy Junkies, you’ll certainly find something to love in this album. And did you see the cover? That cover is awesome.

Here’s an acoustic version of the title track:



Since Ms. Elson is also a model, I thought it’d be appropriate to include another model-turned-singer in this post:



Switching gears entirely, if you live near a Barnes and Noble you should head over to their clearance section and pick up Voodoo: Strange and Fascinating Tales and Lore, edited by John Richard Stephens. I tried to find a picture of the cover or a link to it on Amazon, but they apparently don't have it, which is all the more reason you should go get it while you can.

You probably won’t be surprised to hear that I’m a huge fan of kitschy tiki stuff, and that includes its voodoo cousin. If you enjoy the same this book is a gold mine. It’s a compilation of short stories and old newspaper stories/first hand accounts of voodoo and its related “rituals.” I put that in quotes because I don’t want anyone to confuse this for an authentic look at the actual religion. This is Hollywood voodoo through and through, and with articles like “Voodoo Axe Murders” (reprinted from the March 3rd, 1912 edition of the New York Times) and “Mojoing Jezebel Huckleback” you really can’t go wrong. It was only $8 at the B&N by my house and from what I’ve read so far it’s well worth it.

Warning: Angry Waters Ahead

This is a really interesting article, and by “really interesting” I mean a combination of “crushingly depressing” and “blind fury inducing.” It’s a quick read so I encourage everyone to go check it out and come back. I’ll be sitting here breathing deeply counting to 10 until you get back.

Deliverance: The True Story of a Gay Exorcism Critical Eye: Details.com

Okay, the counting to 10 didn’t work. I honestly don’t even know where to start in this situation. The author had me going at the end there, thinking maybe there was going to be a happy ending for one of the kids in this story, but then they drop this:

“I ask Kevin whether he would make himself straight if he could. "Yeah, I would," he says without hesitation. "I'm not going to lie—I would love to just fit in and be accepted."”

Aaaaannnnnddddddd we’re back to square one. Fuck. This article was full of heartbreaking quotes like the one above but at the root of them all was the issue of stigma and what happens when that stigma is internalized.

Stigma (defined as a “mark of discredit or shame” by our friends at Merriam Webster) is a powerful, powerful tool, especially when used against kids. As this article showed, drilling a sense of shame into someone’s head while they’re still developing cognitively and socially can have dramatic, life long consequences. Take the quote above as an example. He’d gotten away from his family, he’d been to treatment, he’d found others like himself that accepted him, but at the end of the day what’s left? He still wants to change himself because obviously, in his mind, there’s something wrong with him that prevents others from accepting him. The flipside, the actual reality of the situation, that there’s something deeply wrong with the disturbed individuals around him, doesn’t even compute. After so many years of internalizing that stigma, not to mention the physical assaults of the “exorcisms,” Kevin sounds like he’s still stuck in the clutches of shame.

I said it before, but let me say it again: stigma is a powerful, powerful tool. If you’re a member of a stigmatized group you are assaulted on all fronts with messages that you are wrong, dirty, and worth less than everyone else. If you haven’t read it, you should pick up a copy of Erving Goffman’s “Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity.” It was written in 1963 (that’s 47 years ago for the mathematically disinclined) but the only things that have changed are the groups being stigmatized, and in some cases even those are the same. It’s a short book and well worth your time, but if you don’t feel like reading that, at least take a look at this brief Wikipedia entry on internalized homophobia.

The most quoted statistic regarding suicide amongst gay youth is that they are 30% more likely to attempt it. This statistic has come under some scrutiny lately, but even if that’s an overestimation it doesn’t take a sociologist or a statistician to link internalized stigma with suicidal ideation. As far as I’m concerned, whatever the actual number is doesn’t really matter anyway. The bottom line is that these are real people in real pain. Your brother, sister, classmate, friend, neighbor, teammate, niece, nephew, coworker…any of these people in your life could be suffering and seriously contemplating some drastic action. And all over what? Other people can’t handle the way they were born? We can’t just leave people alone? It’s 2010 and we’re still judging people on genetics? Fuck. You. You want to talk about genetics? Fine. Let’s talk about atavism. When I read articles like this one they don’t make me angry. Anger implies rationality and conscious decision-making. No, when I read articles like this the only thing I want to do is leap howling onto one of the assholes doing this to their kid and bite their face off, throwback style. Fortunately for everyone involved, there are groups that take a more productive approach.

This blog isn’t exactly drowning in readers, but if you’re reading this and find yourself in a similar situation, let me stress that THERE. IS. NOTHING. WRONG. WITH. YOU. Did you read that? Read it again. And again. And again. Now keep reading it. Now say it with me: “There is nothing wrong with me.” Now write it down and keep it with you as a reminder. Hell, even if you’re not in a similar situation it never hurts to hear that from time to time. So take a second to remind yourself and those close to you that you love yourself and them for who you/they ARE, not who other people want you/them to be.

Since you most likely came here for Camp and not a rant, I'll leave you with this:

TKO

If you live near a Big Lots and have three dollars to spare, I’d recommend heading over and picking up a copy of Deadly Friend ASAP. This little Wes Craven gem is ridiculously awesome and stars Kristy “the Vampire Slayer” Swanson as an abused girl who lives next door to a teenage brain surgeon (Spike Jones, anyone?) who just happens to have an awesome pet robot named BB.

I don’t know what’s happened in the intervening years, but one thing the 80s excelled at was having awesomely cheesy robots in nearly EVERY movie. If your only exposure to the decade is through its films, you probably think everyone had a nifty little robot running around. As a child of the 80s, I can tell you that’s bullshit. I never even scored one of those awesome Nintendo robots they used to sell, let alone one that could beat up bullies for me.



In BB’s case, our teenage genius, of which there also seemed to be a surplus of in the 80s, has equipped him with the latest in artificial intelligence. He follows his creator around like a puppy and the little guy generally wants to be everyone’s friend, but god help you if you piss him off. The dude holds grudges like you wouldn’t believe and doesn’t seem so cute when he’s got your junk in a vice grip (which is about to happen in the above picture).

While I was watching BB do his thing, it occurred to me that he wasn’t being used to his full potential. As much as I enjoyed Deadly Friend, it could’ve been improved on in a big way. Instead of moving to an upper class neighborhood and going to some fancy college, it would’ve been waaaayyyy more interesting if our teen genius took BB over to the Park Plaza Mall to square off against some Killbots.

If you’ve never seen one in action, Killbots are the best the 80s have to offer in terms of bloodthirsty mall security gone wrong. In Chopping Mall, a trio of them kills their way through a group of drunk, horny teens before finally meeting their match in Kelli Maroney.

BB and Killbots have several basics in common: Both feature tank tread legs, both end up killing people, and both have an aversion to shotguns. Both also star in movies that feature amazing head exploding scenes.

Deadly Friend (though it looks like Kristy Swanson, BB's brain is behind the wheel)



Chopping Mall



If it came to blows, though, who’d come out on top? Killbots are armed to the teeth with lasers, tazers, saw blades, darts…you name it, they’ve got it. They’re certainly impressive on paper, and if you’re a janitor or a teenage mall employee you should really watch your back. On paper, they make BB look like a pacifist by comparison. He doesn’t have any onboard lasers or saw blades. He doesn’t have any tazers or darts. But he does have working arms, artificial intelligence and a thirst for revenge, which is why I’m putting my money on the Beeb.

Even without the Kristy Swanson upgrade, which would easily put him on top, he’s got the two essential capacities of being able to learn and being able to get pissed. For all their weaponry, the Killbots are programmed to do one thing and only one thing, while BB can do whatever the hell he feels like. (Also, “whatever the hell he feels like” may or may not include summoning elder gods to destroy his enemies. For the most part BB rolls around saying his name over and over, but if you listen to the other babbling noises he makes they sound eerily similar to some Lovecraftian incantations.) Plus, he doesn’t need built in weapons. Everything he gets his hands on is a weapon. Did you watch the clip above? A basketball? That was a first. I’ve never seen a basketball explode someone’s head before. Not even LeBron could pull that off. And before you say it, yes, he could’ve made that happen while he still had his robo chassis.

The Killbots wouldn’t stand a chance. Seriously. Go watch both movies and decide for yourself. If nothing else you’ll get to watch two incredibly fun movies. And let’s face it, if you’re reading this you’ve obviously got time to be doing something else.

Just remember to be extra nice to any yellow robots you run across. Or at least make sure you keep your crotch out of arm’s length.