Judge Roy Moore, fondler of teens and bizarrely adherent fan of the ten commandments, was defeated in the Alabama special Senatorial race last Tuesday. This is a tremendous victory for people with some sort of sense of dignity and honour, particularly the 93% of African-American voters who helped elect democrat Doug Jones, whose record as a public prosecutor includes convicting Ku Klux Klan members for the murder of four little girls.
But as for the mouth-breathing, pig-ignorant, swayback rednecks that are still dragging their knuckles around the state, there is still some sort of hope that their narrow, discriminatory, and bigoted agenda will be represented in Congress, as Doug Jones recently admitted that he will be inclined to vote in line with certain Republican values.
It's yet another way that a slight updraught in fortune can carry a whiff of sulphur with it.
Reality Revelry
The latest reality "So You Want To Be A Celebrity" television show is just launching in Canada. Fine. Mediocrities around the country can queue up around soundstages and demean themselves for the amusement of the average populace. I noticed with disinterest that "Fergie" from the Black Gin Doo-Doo Crowes is one of the coaches for the wannabe candidates. Fine. Another chance for women to claim some airtime and stake a place in an admittedly squalid, but apparently real piece of celebrity real estate. Then I heard the kicker. The judge, who will award a record contract, merchandising campaign, and grandiose concert tour is none other than... some fat, sweaty A&R guy. Yup. Post-Weinstein, and with all of the knowledge and progress we've made, the position of gatekeeper is still held by a seedy-looking guy behind a desk who is "famous" because he "made Taylor Swift," if I recall the advertisement verbatim.Women are going to throw themselves into another one of these crucibles, reminiscent of the part of Pink Floyd's "The Wall" where the song "Young Lust" accompanies a groupie as she makes her way backstage by performing a series of sexual activities on male gatekeepers. I've mentioned before that the proverbial "casting couch" is not proverbial at all. People of all persuasions, not just women, are drawn like moths to the flame of fame and celebrity, and will sacrifice anything to get there. The Law of Supply and Demand automatically directs poovy power-seekers towards those gatekeeper positions, and people like Mira Sorvino and Ashley Judd end up being the victims of those gatekeepers capriciously flexing their muscles.
How do we fix the problem? Well, really, the answer is art.
Once upon a time, artists had to labour at their craft to produce something that would be weighed by the marketplace of consumers, and the value of that artistic expression to society could be measured by things like sales and performance attendances.
In that atmosphere, musicians wanted to play and compose music. Writers wanted to wrestle words, sculptors wanted to shape the human experience into the tactically perceptible, actors wanted to make experiences and insights accessible to others, and so on. If artists worked hard enough, they became good at their chosen field. Fame and money then followed as a logical development of skill and craftsmanship.
That was then. Now, albums/films/books do not need to be recorded, pressed, marketed, distributed, etc. Any old chump with a smartphone can record some audio or video clip (or text) that can spray around the cybersphere in seconds and gain instant public acknowledgement. There is no incentive to get better or to improve if the objective is fame. One can get it and keep it with a minimal amount of effort, as many talentless and inauthentic humanoids have capably demonstrated.
One might suggest that this dilution of artistic vision in all manner of production should reduce the role of the gatekeeper and therefore direct the industries involved away from manipulative and sexual abuses of power. Not so. Big corporations have already shown that when a newfound "celebrity" is not profitable to their branding, they can very easily turn off the tap. I won't even mention the names of the talentless asshats that constitute examples. And the fact that "The Launch" is an actual television program (I admit, I had to look up the name of the thing) indicates that big corporations are still capable of dangling carrots in front of avaricious and simple-minded individuals so as to profit from the schadenfreude and entertainment value of people embarrassing themselves in front of large audiences.
As an authentic individual in this society, one suspects that avoiding the tendency towards instant gratification and high-volume consumables should be self-evident. It's also extremely difficult. Perhaps we'll have to wait until the revolution comes before we can really start appreciating the aesthetic as a necessary aide toward emotional and spiritual maturity, rather than a diversion that reduces our anxiety about our dire socioeconomic predicament and diminishing possibilities of a better life.
Shower Songlist
- Pretty Fly for a Rabbi, by Weird Al Yankovic
- Eileen, by Keith Richards
- War is Over, by John Lennon
- The Lion Sleeps Tonight, performed by Arlo Guthrie and Pete Seeger
- Video Killed the Radio Star, by The Buggles
- The Pirate Song, by George Harrison and Eric Idle
- Hurricane, by Bob Dylan
Well, there are certainly some songs there that would assist people in appreciating the obsolescence of the "i before e" rule of English spelling. There also seems to be a downward trend in terms of emotional appeal.
And that's things as I see them. Until next time, goodnight England and the Colonies.
—mARKUS
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