tupperware party tonight
every weekend the refrigerator at work is purportedly cleaned out although i’m not entirely sure what the specific criteria is for discarding something versus keeping it. salad dressing is not discarded. an entire drawer of mini coffee creamers has been there forever. i kept buying yogurt under the mistaken belief that it was being tossed only to find three full containers with my initials* on them.
*in a completely misguided attempt to thwart the Food Thief
so no my three yogurts were not thrown out. but i have lost container after container of partially or not at all eaten leftovers. gone. hasta la never. where do they go, these seemingly but not really unwanted foodstuffs, i wonder. the theory is that the cleaning person comes in and coldly discards all of them into the garbage. i can’t bring myself to believe this. why would someone throw away perfectly good food storage containers? all they need is a run in the dishwasher and they’re good as new. that’s the whole point. i think she [it has to be a woman. whoever saw a man clean out a refrigerator? such a man would be a saint.] tells us they’ve been thrown out, but secretly cleans them and takes them away to a vast criminal underworld trading in gently used flip lock, oxo, tupperware, etc. there must be a market for these things. this thought first occurred to me when i read about a chinese doctor who was telling new parents their babies died or had a tragic deadly congenital condition but actually spirited them away to be sold on the chinese boy black market. which of course must be next door to the food storage container black market. or perhaps she hoards them. someday she will be found, like emily dickinson and her poems, except with thousands of tupperware containers some with my initials carved into them. bitch.
the scene is dead
i have to admit that i really cruise through life with blinders on and frankly i’m better off for it. i don’t want to know what everyone else does or is interested in and i care about the news only peripherally. i especially don’t care about what music is popular or big or winning awards or whatever it is they do to pat themselves on a job shittily done. i have not been tricked into listening to mumford and sons as i have studiously avoided them the same way i have avoided listening to any radio station other than kxlu. i have an ipod with years of music on it. i have backup music on my phone. if all else fails i have emergency back up cds to play in the car. if all of that doesn’t work, i start drinking.
but you know, what is music nowadays. what’s the scene. who are you, who who who who. it used to be fairly easy to tell and say. you could be a stoner, a punk, a goth (assuming you were into music and identified yourself that way). you could say you were into soul, techno, industrial music, black metal, death rock, southern rock, glam, hair bands. post punk. new romantic. po po po punk. new wave. skater and/or surf rock.
but honest to god i don’t know what these kids are doing anymore. i was driving down sunset today doncha know and there were hundreds of teenage girls lined up outside the roxy and i swear to god they all looked alike and i have no idea what they were into. other than high rise shorts. [fashion tip! high rise shorts look good on exactly 1% of the population and that girl is currently modeling in europe.] those girls are only one step removed from the faux self proclaimed hipsters in echo park and you know there was a day a long long time ago when black skinny jeans really meant something, just like ironic facial hair and stupid hats [trucker. newspaper boy. fedora.]. but now?
which brings me to my point [finally, you say]. i was on a blog with the name something something indie. indie being the musical equivalent to organic i said, oh ok let’s check some of this stuff out. i had not heard of most of the bands and i thought perhaps in my old age i was missing something. god knows i don’t want to turn into one of those people who has nights listening to shit from junior high. anyway so i slapped some tunes onto the system and perused them.
oh. my. god. is this indie? really? because it totally blows. indie used to be shorthand for cool bands which weren’t signed to a major. now apparently indie is shorthand for banal shit. this was music that made me fear for the souls of american youth. certainly you cannot be an interesting person and listen to such trite garbage. what’s wrong with you kids? and why do you all dress alike (and poorly, i might add)? is that your goal, to be average, boring people? ac/dc was on the highway to hell and you’re on the rocketship to mundane.
i have a special message to the creators and purveyors of this hackneyed tripe. what you’re doing is more evil, more damaging, than crop dusting kindergardens with crack cocaine. you’re turning generations of innocent children into mindless, complacent zombies nodding their heads and tapping their toes to faux folk or passionless emo. and isn’t that funny? emo is so dead fish. good god, do i hate emo. which invites me to introduce a theory of mine which is that sadly that the ideas of kindness and acceptance and inclusion (which are good!) have resulted in abject dishonesty, both cultural and personal (which is bad IMHBCO). sheep aesthetics are exalted over talent, style and design whatever the medium. niceness gets more miles than truth or good. i swear to god, i’m probably more passionate in my dislike of these lame-ass bands than any of their fans are. and you know, if you can’t be someone’s favorite band, stop making music.
in reality, of course, it has always been this way except that the really lame bands never got written up by lester bangs. they just released their crappy music to whoever it is that bought them and eventually all these records, good and bad, ended up at my house, aka The Repository Of [The Decline Of] Western Civilization. i have countless records of bands i have absolutely no interest in listening to, on the off chance that there may be one decent song that’s all i need, one decent song on their lousy records. it mystifies me that someone could spend so much time and energy recording and not lay down one good track on an album, but i am here to tell you it happens, and it’s happened to lou reed with alarming regularity. are mumford and sons any worse than manhattan transfer? probably not.
but wait, there’s hope!
ironically, there’s actually a wealth of excellent music being created right here right now today probably not far from wherever you are. and with the magick of the interwebs, you too can access all of this glorious music at the touch of your fingers instantaneously. you can stream kxlu or wfmu. you can check out rollo grady or burger records or drag city or castle face. there is absolute reason why you, a poor schmuck in indiana, can’t rise above whatever it is that your lazy classmates are listening to or whatever is on your [poor excuse of a] radio station to actually listen to music that, in 20 years, will still matter – or ought to, unless we really are going the way of idiocracy. i have three words to say in that regard and they are THE VELVET UNDERGROUND (1964-1973, RIP). now obviously i did not see any VU shows as i did not go out much when i was five. however, my contact lens guy ned claims to have seen VU on many occasions (as well as the MC5 etc etc) and claims they were absolutely terrible, that lou reed nodded off in the middle of songs and the venues were empty. probably so. but i’ll tell you this much, ten and fifteen years later, more bands were influenced by VU than gale garnett or tony orlando and dawn. where was i going with that? oh yea. popularity does not equal worthiness. mcdonalds is incredibly popular. few people [setting aside the crazy scottish guy i dated in a fit of benevolence decades ago] would argue that mcdonalds is actually good food.
here. listen to this.
here. wear this.
i’d rather see this than high rise shorts