Can't say I knew much about Farrah back in the day, though I certainly saw her posters everywhere. She was the ever-present media face of my youth.
Michael Jackson was part of my music life and just about my age. I used MJ (and Madonna) as a sort of pop culture barometer about what people my age were doing. I guess what people my age are doing is dying. This isn't a good feeling. Poor Jacko.
Steven Wells I first met as one of the NME's brilliant young writers, though many people heard him first as the ranting poet Seething Wells. His loud, inventive, scathing and sweary left-wing rhetoric consistently tickled my funnybone as well as giving me food for thought. He was actually younger than me, as it happens, and now dead of Hodgkin's lymphoma.
From his last published column in the Philadelphia Weekly:
And of course all this bollocks is written by an idiot who has polished his image as an existentialist, atheist hard-man and anti-mope, forever sneering at the tribes who wallow in self-pity -- the gothers, the emo kids, the Smiths fans -- the whole 900-block-wide marching band composed entirely of the white male urban middle classes who are convinced that (as the most affluent and pampered human beings who have ever walked the planet) theirs is a story worth hearing. Blissfully unaware that they are but a few generations away from regular visits to the doctor who would wind parasitic worms from their beer bloated assholes using sticks. (Check out the AMA logos, those smiling beasts are not snakes.)
You could blame this fallacy on poor education, cultural deterioration, or simple moral decline.
Me? I blame it on sunshine. I blame it on the moonlight. I blame it on the boogie.
No comments:
Post a Comment