Coming Apart at the Rifts
by Jon Worley
As usual, I got the latest issue of Lies via my pre-psychotic rage snail mail carrier, e-mailed Mattman to congratulate him on his fine effort (and my own wondrous work, of course) and asked for an assignment. Usually he says something like, "Oh, man, I don't know. It's fuckin' dollar margarita night at Time Out, and I've gotta get my head in that space."
So I was rather taken aback when he said he had an idea. And not just any idea. He wanted to tackle the issue of why Rush is so damned fat, anyway. In other words, why folks want to kill anyone who doesn't look like them, think like them, smoke the same cancer stick or drink the same suicide solution. I concurred. A couple weeks ago, a woman threatened me with bodily harm because I happened to be a married man frequenting (with my wife) an industrial bar in Ybor City. So I like the question: What gives?
Well, of course, Mattman supplied the answer. "Because there's no fuckin' top forty radio any more." I said that there actually is such a station in the greater Tampa Bay area. I know this because the Y's stereo is always stuck on 93FLZ (formerly "The Power Pig," now "The New Music Revolution") every time I go to flex my pecs.
"No, man," he countered. "Someone even shot Kasey last year!" Not the almighty Kasey Kasem! Not the guy who screams bloody murder about Aladdin's slurs against Arabs and then says really nasty things about the descendants of Abraham and Sarah when he thinks the tape isn't rolling (it was; find a copy of the impounded Negativland single "U2" for further details)!
"Hell, yes!" he hollered, rising to the challenge. "That Shadoe Stevens guy, the one on Dave's World! He shot Kasey and then took over his show!"
I advised my excitable younger brother to cut down on the exclamation points. Clog up the arteries, you know. And then I clued him in that Shadoe was doing AT40 long before Dave's World, and that Kasey had quit the official Billboard countdown show to do something silly called "Kasey's Top 40." Don't know if that one's still around. I try not to rise early enough on the weekends to find out such things.
Well, we hemmed and hawed, and it seemed like a good idea to crank something out on why top 40 radio has all but disappeared from the face of the earth.
The answer has two words. Well, two answers, two words apiece: New Country and Baby Boomers. Oh, and that insignificant entity known as MTV. 'Nuff sed.
Personally, I quit listening to top 40 when Tiffany had 3 songs in the top 40. Well, maybe it was only two, but they were around about the same time as "I Want Your Sex" was a big hit. The station in Clovis banned it. Not because it was a dreadful song that was so repetitive it made Suicide sound spontaneous. No, the banned George Michael's magnum opus because it seemed to advocate sex. Between people who may or may not be married. This silly line of reasoning is also the reason that kids in Clovis still can't find MTV on the local cable system, even though MTV gave up playing videos years ago in lieu of endless re-runs of Pedro episodes from The Real World.
And through the wisdom of MTV we discover the reason life sucks and people hate each other: Pedro died of AIDS. Well, fuck, so did my friend Kent. And my friend Steve. And a few other folks I didn't share my personal cheese with (which is why I am still around to rant like this, I guess). I mean, life sucks. It's true. But occasionally you catch a cool buzz or have a great orgasm. And once in your lifetime, the Royals win the World Series. Apart from that, to misquote one of the more insightful folks in history, life is brutish and short. Lots of folks don't like you, and you probably don't like them much either. Deal with it.
Yes, that's the whole solution. Deal with it. Don't like black people? Fine. Don't talk to them. Don't talk about them. Don't associate with them or do anything that might affect any black people. Guess what. You can't, unless you're Michael Jackson.
So you have to deal with people. And the shit they give you. This doesn't mean loading up for bear, engaging the government in a shoot-out and then claiming it was "their" fault. Even if Rush says you're right. And this doesn't mean flying planes over an island where you once owned slaves so that you could drop leaflets to convince the fine people of that island to kick out its semi-legitimate government in order to become your slaves once again. No. These are bad ideas. Shake them off and start over.
Mattman has plenty of good ideas on how to do things right. One is to take the first five bums off the street, haul them into the nearest bar and set them up with a $100 tab. Of course, if you don't have $100, this isn't such a good idea. But the spirit's right. A cheaper idea is to do the Leo Buscaglia: Simply wander the streets and hug anyone you think needs a hug. Just make sure you don't squeeze the silicone.
Alright, where are we? We've agreed that life is a shithole, and that we should treat our fellow man (the collective of humankind, of course) with respect, decency and the occasional offer of sex. Oh, and make sure to catch Iceburn whenever that band is in town. And find an endless supply of killer bud. Ooops, this list is getting too long.
The most important rule is: Don't listen to the radio, because the stations play shitty music that you didn't like the first time you heard it. Indeed, the world has gone to hell in a hand basket since Q104 became "Kansas City's Young Country." Just don't tell your parents. They're out doing the achy breaky.