FM Radio should be dead by now, but sadly, like leotards and opera, it’s not. Here are seven completely unbiased, fair, and balanced journalistic observations about the medium, each in 140 characters or less (kind of like that twitter thing [why does everyone use that crap now, anyway? {I never even give a shit about what I am doing or thinking! (I wish I wasn't so lonely...)}]).
1. Hip hop and rock n’ roll should stay as far away from each other as spatially and conceptually as possible.
2. No matter how many times you play Zepplin, they will only be cool in that old-hairy-dad-mowing-the-lawn-in-a-tank top kind of way.
3. @radiodjs Just shut. the fuck. up. No one gives a shit about what you foreskins have to say.
4. I can only take so many commercials before I’d prefer that someone fuck my cochlea with a blow torch.
5. We can never make gay marriage legal because then everyone will want to marry NPR just for the benefits.
Way to go with the whole inventing modern music production thing. That’s awesome. Oh, and also great job on FUCKING KILLING SOMEBODY IN YOUR HOUSE, WALKING OUT WITH THE GUN, AND SAYING “I THINK I KILLED SOMEBODY” LOUDLY ENOUGH FOR THE NEIGHBOR TO HEAR. That’s inspired.
As a soon-to-be college graduate – which to date it had never occurred to me to equate with “unemployed” – I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. Namely, how do I get to where I want to be? The answer isn’t important. What’s important is what the fuck is the deal with people who are totally ALL SET doing really fucking stupid things and screwing it all up?
What, Phil, did she lose that lovin’ feeling? Too bad instead of grabbing your bro and weeping about it you popped one in her face. Cause even with a bloodstain on the carpet, your big house is a lot better than the big house.
Stop screwing it all up. Leave the murder, gun posession, dogfighting, drunk driving, and insider trading to those of us who need the free food. If you want butt sex, you can afford it.
Anyone who’s ever read culturefuck can attest to the fact that it’s mostly just a self-important sounding board for extreme, hyperbole-laden opinions on things that most people probably don’t care about which the authors have spent entirely too much time thinking about. Coincidentally, this is also why culturefuck is important, and brilliant, and beautiful, and sexy. But until recently, there was something missing — Anonymous Internet Slander, the cultural significance of which is clearly demonstrated in the diagram below:
Previously, culturefuck had fucked culture both loudly and vigorously (and usually missionary style), but still remained under the radar of these so-called “Internet Fuckwads.” While some culturefuckers and other internet aficionados might breathe a sigh of relief at this, I was in fact quite bothered by it. To me, the presence of an Internet Fuckwad is a marking, a rite of passage, that verifies one’s existence on the World Wide Interweb. Simply put: if your online presence (whatever it may be) has garnered enough attention that another human being (see: Internet Fuckwad) is uncontrollably compelled to register on your website with the specific intention of anonymously slandering you, you have proven yourself worthy. Whether you are a blog, or a band, or a web comic, or anything else, your significance to the vast annals of the internet does not matter, until a person has found him and herself so overcome by jealousy and rage that he or she must strike at you anonymously through the internet: only then have you truly made it.
Ladies and gentlemen: culturefuck has finally made it.
At 6:58pm on Saturday, March 14, we fell victim to our very first Internet Fuckwad. This Internet Fuckwad goes by the name of “spastic,” which is terribly, terribly clever. With an IP address of 81.106.102.13, “spastic” hails from the East Sussex region of the United Kingdom, and is apparently a HUGE fan of U2 (because apparently Irish-English rivalry and tension just isn’t what it used to be). Here’s the rest of the info based on the IP Address search, which may or may not be accurate:
OLO Management Group
Dawn Darbon
NTL House
Bartley Wood Business Park
RG27 9UP Hook, Hampshire
UNITED KINGDOM
+44 1256 753583
What I find most amusing about this whole thing is that, of all the posts here on culturefuck — you know, the ones about Gays, and Jews, and Asians, and the Pope, and Starving African Children — it was the one about U2 that offended someone so much that it inspired him or her to take action (albeit anonymously). Up until this point, I had never actually encountered a single person who really cared about U2 beyond the casual enjoyment of a few songs.
So thank you, “spastic,” for being a spastic and anonymous Internet Fuckwad. This whole thing would have never been possible without people like you to get pissed off at things I say and then post anonymously about it. I’ll make sure to include you affectionately in the acknowledgments of the culturefuck hardcover coffee table book, whenever that finally comes out.
Maybe I’m just bitter that Bruce Springsteen’s awesome tune from The Wrestler didn’t even get a nod, or maybe I’m pissed about Slumdog Millionaire being the new bukkake. Probably both.
Listen: Larry. Bono. Guy Who Plays Bass. The. Can I call you “The”? I know I haven’t posted in a while, but please stop clogging my newsfeed. All of this media attention is only going to make it worse once the truth sets in:
You are no longer relevant (if you ever were at all)
No one cares about your sunglasses and thinly-veiled metaphorical rants on Western Imperialism and the policies of a government under which only one of you is even a citizen (Irish me arse!).
And that “Get On Your Boots” song? Why don’t you just admit it that it was a b-side off of Beck’s Guero album, with overdubbed vocals by Bono, and move on with your well-past-prime lives (“Free me from the dark dream/Candy bars, Ice Cream” — yeah, that’s a Beck line if I ever heard one). The unfortunate truth is that you’re probably still going to continue making albums and doing stadium tours and making ridiculous sums of money that you probably won’t give to starving children in Africa anyway, but that no one is ever going to remember nor care about a single god damn thing you did after “Beautiful Day” and you’ll continue down the same soulless and monotonous yellow brick road on which The Rolling Stones were lost to us in 1978. What’s next? U2 — the 4D Experience: Transcending 30 Years Of Self-Importance?
In fact, I don’t even think you’re really Irish.
As we enter the St. Patrick’s Day season, I implore you, in good faith, to just stop. I thought St. Padraig was supposed to have rid Ireland of all the snakes and sin all those centuries ago, but apparently, he missed the twilight days of your career.
Sure, talks of “The Economy” fill your ears at every dinner, pub, and bus stop in America. Everywhere you go, someone is complaining or criticizing the state of things, rarely offering input or suggestions but simply acknowledging its decay instead. That is why, in times like these, America needs a true patriot. A warrior.
Kid Rock has just revealed the Stimulus Plan to end all Stimulus Plans, and it starts and ends with one of my favorite things: beer. Okay, well, technically it starts with one of my least favorite things, Kid Rock, but still. He gets points for helping the economy, and for beer.
While I assume that “bawitdabeer” won’t make the cut for branding (damn! So close!), the job of naming Kid Rock’s very own brand of craft beer will be only 1 of 400 jobs that Kid Rock’s new brewery is reportedly going to open up to the public. Kid Rock will be working in coordination with Michigan Brewing, which brings us such beers as “Big Mac” and “Peninsula Porter” and a bunch of other types I’ve never even heard of (and trust me, I know some obscure shit when it comes to beer). Says head brewer/owner Bobby Mason, “[Kid Rock is] working on designing the beer, he’s giving me direction, he’s tasting the beers. It’s his idea, it’s his concept. I’m just working with him to make it happen.” Mr. Mason apparently plans on investing $7 million dollars in the project, and the company has already received a tax credit for $722,957 from the state of Michigan.
Personally, I’m pretty curious to see how this turns out; after spending 48 hours in Virginia this week, I finally understand where all of the people that buy albums by Kid Rock and Nickelback and watch NASCAR live (answer: still not far enough away from me), and considering the target marketing demographic, I’m not sure if craft beer is actually the way to go on this. Remember Budweiser American Ale from 3 months ago, Budweiser’s lame attempt to cash in on the craft beer trend? A friend of mine offered the best review: “You know how Budweiser tastes like beer-and-piss-flavored water? This tastes kind of like good-beer-and-piss-flavored water.” Despite their efforts, I found Budweiser American Ale on clearance discounts at every bar I went to by Thanksgiving of last year, and that’s in the Northeast, where craft beer is generally considered desirable. Imagine the reaction that they had in the rest of the country?
Regardless of the kind of beer that he produces, Kid Rock’s (apparently) remarkable patriotism doesn’t stop there. He recently produced an ad, in conjunction with the National Guard, which I was unfortunate enough to witness before a screening of “Slumdog Millionaire.”
First, the music video (the song is available for download for free at the National Guard’s website, if you sign up for their mailing list. So basically, it’s not worth it, even as a joke. Trust me. I tried).
As I walked into the movie theater, the video was already playing, and quite frankly, I found it hilarious. Kid Rock went as far as to pull a Justin Timberlake and make a complete mockery of himself, as well as the National Guard!
But then, at the end of the video, I realized something: there was nothing ironic about this. It was completely fucking serious.
A poetry reading, courtesy of culturefuck:
So Don’t Tell Me Who’s Wrong And Right
When Liberty Starts Slipping Away
And If You Ain’t Gonna Fight
Get Out Of The Way
‘Cause Freedom Ain’t So Free
When You Breathe Red White And Blue
I’m Givin’ All Of Myself ‘Cause That’s What I Do
And They Call Me Warrior
They Call Me Loyalty
They Call Me Ready To Provide Relief And Help
I’m Wherever You Need Me To Be
I’m an American Warrior
Citizen Soldier
I’m an American Warrior
Citizen Soldier
Citizen Soldier
I’d Never Leave Another Behind
I Will Never Accept Defeat
I’m A Soldier In War, Civilian In Peace
‘Cause Freedom Ain’t So Free
When You Breathe Red White And Blue
I’m Givin’ All Of Myself, How Bout You?
And They Call Me Warrior
They Call Me Loyalty
And They Call Me Ready To Deploy,
Engage And Destroy,
I’m Wherever You Need Me To Be
I’m An American Warrior Citizen Soldier
Aside from the fact that I’ve never heard anyone refer to somebody in the Armed Forces as a “warrior,” I couldn’t help but notice how much this song resembles what I would write as a parody of a country song. Compare it to “Freedom Isn’t Free,” from Team America:
What would you do
If you were asked to give up your dreams for freedom
What would you do
If asked to make the ultimate sacrifice
Would you think about all them people
Who gave up everything they had.
Would you think about all them War Vets
And would you start to feel bad
Freedom isn’t free
It costs folks like you and me
And if we don’t all chip in
We’ll never pay that bill
Freedom isn’t free
No, there’s a hefty fuckin’ fee.
And if you don’t throw in your buck ‘o five
Who will?
What would you do
If someone told you to fight for freedom.
Would you answer the call
Or run away like a little pussy
‘Cause the only reason that you’re here.
Is ’cause folks died for you in the past
So maybe now it’s your turn
To die kicking some ass
Freedom isn’t free
It costs folks like you and me
And if we don’t all chip in
We’ll never pay that bill
Freedom isn’t free
Now there’s a have to hook’in fee
And if you don’t throw in your buck ‘o five
Who will?
You don’t throw in your buck ‘o five. Who will?
Freedom costs a buck ‘o five
In the end, this leaves me kind of confused about Kid Rock; is he mocking his fanbase? Is he a patriot? Does he realize he’s being ironic, or is he just stupid? I’m about 3 beers too deep to make any solid conclusions on the matter, but when it all comes down, this is American culture. And it is fucked.
“But culturefuck,” you cry, like the sad, pathetic little Journey-loving bitch you are. “Why do you hate Journey so much? I love singing ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ at the bar after doing jager bombs!”
To this, I refer you to the alcoholic phenomenon known only as “Beer Goggles” in which the mass consumption of alcohol makes a normally repulsive human being appear to be desirable, and often leads to terrible, terrible drunken mistakes. What you don’t know is that, despite it’s lack of popularity in the lexicon of every 18-35 year old American, “Beer Headphones” is a similar, and often times more tragic, abnormality in which intoxication causes a person to interpret audible signals much differently than they actually sound. Much like the way in which marijuana might convince a person that he or she actually enjoys the mindless, self-indulgent repetition of groove-based riffs that never fucking end, Beer Headphones can make otherwise horrendous sounds seem remarkably enjoyable, especially if these noises resemble a group sing-a-long in any way.
EVERYONE! CALM DOWN! NO NEED TO PANIC! YOU CAN RETURN TO YOUR SEATS! CRISIS AVERTED!
The vast conspiracy has finally been uncovered: “CelloScrotum,” much like AIDS and Democracy, has been revealed as a scam. A phallacy! (see what I did there? I linked to the interwebz about something else that is only tangentially related yet intriguing enough for you to still click on it! Clever boy, I am)
The ailment formerly known as cello scrotum was discovered in 1974 Dr. Elaine Murphy of the House of the Lords. Along with guitar nipple and the violin hickey (aka Vicky), cello scrotum is a malady that only affects performers of a specific instrument after repeated use; in this case, the affliction appears only to affect men (I suppose the cello can be seen as the Great Equalizer when held up against HPV or yeast infections). The condition, which is described as the irritation or swelling of the loins after prolonged and vigorous play, just sounds to me like chaffage, a condition brought on by jerking off too many times (or too hard) on a snow day like today, or crotch rot. And as every knowledgeable, world-savvy male can attest, there is only one cure and one cure alone for such discomfort: Goldbond.
Back to cello scrotum. Apparently, Elaine Murphy and her husband, John, found the idea of guitar nipple to be so hilarious and unbelievable that they decided to submit a letter to the British Medical Journal regarding a similar phenomenon noted in cellists. Doctor John Murphy signed the published letter, even though he’s not actually a Doctor (which makes me question if the British Medical Journal ever actually checks its sources, and gives me all kinds of crazy ideas for mischief). Now that this condition has actually been noted and referenced in legitimate medical research, however, Elaine and John decided that it was time to come clean. In an effort to save her ass and social standing, Elaine told the press, “We frown on misconduct and medical fraud is taken very seriously. But in this case I hope I am right in saying that no harm has been done,” all the while grinning and giggling between words because, let’s face it, that’s fucking funny.
And you know what’s even funnier? The ridiculous amount of media coverage that this is getting. Maybe nothing else interesting is going in the world today (besides the leak of Lil’ Wayne’s new rock single), but really, associated press? I can’t tell if you’re digging for the truth like serious journalists, or if you’re just being ironic (I kind of hope it’s the former).
Although, this does get me wondering about the guy who first documented blue balls in a medical journal. “What’s that? Vasocongestion, you call it? And you’d like to do a controlled experiment for research? Why, sir, I do believe this is a medical breakthrough! This is bigger than penicillin, or intelligent design! You’ve completely revolutionized we see and understand the human body!”
