As an unapologetic IQ snob, I was both appalled and yet amused by the abject stupidity and irrational xenophobia exhibited by Tea Party Express chairwoman Amy Kremer over the weekend when she was asked a direct question by CNN’s Soledad O’Brien about something idiotic that she had posted on Twitter.
As is obvious from the video, Amy Kremer was ready, willing and quite able to inflict her aggressive ignorance on CNN’s global audience. Watching her strain to verbalize her tiny thoughts like turds that would just not plop out was nothing short of incredibly painful… but funny.
Kremer says Mitt Romney “loves America” whereas with the black guy currently occupying the Oval Office it’s “about more a global — having, uh, global, um, oh what’s the word? Being more global, one-world, with other countries, and it’s not about the shining city on the hill, the greatness that has always been America that our Founding Fathers were all about.”
Sarah Palin herself would have winced if she’d have witnessed Amy Kremer’s nincompoopish attempt to Madlib her way out of O’Brien’s question. The muted, comical reactions from the bemused newscaster and the other guests is fairly priceless, especially the reporter who calmly tries to school the inarticulate buffoon sitting beside him. Normally, you would expect to hear the rest of the panel vociferously rebutting such ridiculous, unintelligent statements of questionable “facts” but in the case of the shockingly brain-dead Amy Kremer, it’s obvious that none of them seem to think she’s worth much of an effort! (They’re right.)
A question for CNN’s bookers: What value (besides the lulz) does someone as utterly devoid of intelligence as Amy Kremer OBVIOUSLY IS bring to your newscast?
Then what the fuck is she doing there?
Hey, CNN, why not just invite Jessica Simpson on to see what she thinks about politics and shit? I’d much rather see her on CNN, because at the very least she’s got one up on Kremer since she’s probably figured out the difference between tuna and chicken by now!
In case you missed that “humanizing” biopic of Mittens at the convention last week, this should suffice…
An ART NOT WAR production starring Kerri Kenney as Ann Romney. Narrated by Alex Fernie. Produced by Daron Murphy & David Ambrose. Directed by Laura Dawn. Written by Laura Dawn, Eddie Geller, & Daron Murphy.
British Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne had no place to hide when the boos rang out around the Olympic Stadium today in London. It’s allegedly the first time boos have been heard inside the stadium, which says much about the loathing for the ghastly Osborne and the current Con-Dem Government. As Channel 4 News reported:
‘The first boos of the day ring out in the Olympic Stadium for George Osborne, Chancellor of the Exchequer, who was presenting medals at the 400m T38 victory ceremony.’
Surprisingly, there was cheers for former Labour PM Gordon Brown, which suggests the public do have short memories.
If you’re like me, you can’t resist a good piece of moral panic red-baiting propaganda, especially when it’s directed at a social phenomenon that seems so chaste by today’s standards. As luck might have it, I recently came across the 1974 opus, The Marxist Minstrels: A Handbook on Communist Subversion of Music, by the good Reverend David A. Noebel.
Evangelical tracts denouncing rock ‘n’ roll, especially as related to either homosexuality or “race mixing,” aren’t hard to find if you scour antique shops in middle America, but as something of a connoisseur of the genre, I have yet to find a piece of literature that so succinctly combines the collective fears of old, white, crazy, Christian dudes. David Noebel, ordained in 1961, started his illustrious career with the above pamphlet, Communism, Hypnotism, and The Beatles. He saw the rise of Beatlemania as the result of Communist indoctrination via hypnosis (yup, just like the title), a thesis he developed more thoroughly in his 1964 book, Rhythm, Riots, and Revolution: An Analysis of the Communist Use of Music, the Communist Master Music Plan. The book transitioned from The Beatles to folk artists, focusing on Bob Dylan, his colleagues, and their earlier influences. This is at least slightly more understandable, when one considers the political leanings of the folk movement, frequently with explicit anti-racist, pro-labor lyrics.
The Marxist Minstrels: A Handbook on Communist Subversion of Music however, synthesizes all of his previous work, citing children’s records, folk, and rock ‘n’ roll as being part and parcel to some elaborate integrationist, free-love, Communist conspiracy. As a rock ‘n’ roll propaganda collector, I’m used to trudging through a lot of this stuff, and the majority of it is incoherent ramblings—the sort of thing you’d read in a madman’s personal manifesto. Noebel is compelling because he’s intelligent, coherent, and well-researched, despite being absolutely paranoid and utterly mad. Aside from some inconsistent use of the Oxford Comma, he has a clear, if discursive thesis: rock ‘n’ roll is turning kids into gay, Communist, miscegenators.
Some of his “evidence” is fascinating. For example, Alan Freed’s “payola scandal”—who was paying him to play all those rock ‘n’ roll records to unsuspecting teenagers? Communist record companies invade the airwaves by bribery, infecting the youth with music that is ““un-Christian, mentally unsettling, revolutionary and a medium for promiscuity.” He cites psychological studies, sociological statistics, numerology, etc. to scientifically “prove” the moral degradation incited by popular music, causing everything from sky-rocketing “illegitimate” birth rates to sexual rioting. Lots of sexual rioting. The appendices are incredibly dense and well-cited.
What follows his strange assessment of rock ‘n’ roll is an (actually, semi-accurate) account of the American Left, including some background of the American Communist Party and Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC). Then of course, Noebel posits that folk artists were inspiring the youth to instigate a race war. He believed acoustic musicians like Malvina Reynolds (her “Little Boxes” is the theme music to Weeds) and Pete Seeger were instructing white students to join with “radical groups of Negro racists” so that they might revolt and achieve racial dominance in America. The weirdest part of all this is that by 1974, integration was (at least, on paper) complete. The folk artists who were most explicitly leftist or Communist weren’t a particular focus of pop culture, The Beatles had already long been broken up, and he never quite explains how these two very distinct fanbases are somehow connected (except that they’re obviously both very Communist). One can only imagine the lovely psychosis that The MC5 would have brought him.
Noebel is still living today, and I recommend checking out his extensive collection of YouTube videos and blog, if you’re looking for a laugh. These days, he’s much more on the “Obama’s a Socialist” train and decrying “Warmism” (Noebel’s evocative name for climate change) than he is into denouncing rock ‘n’ roll. Hell, even Paul Ryan loves Rage Against the Machine. Still, his older words bring an odd comfort, when we read his treatise on rock ‘n’ roll, comparing it to a children’s record that supposedly contained subliminal messages only audible when the record is played in reverse; “the noise that many of our youth call music is analogous to the story tape played backwards. It is invigorating, vulgarizing, and orgiastic. It is destroying our youth’s ability to relax, reflect, study, pray, and meditate, and is in fact preparing them for riot, civil disobedience, and revolution.” Dear god, I hope so.
One summer when I was 17 years old I lived inside of a military surplus parachute that I erected like a tipi inside of an abandoned square dance hall in Los Gatos, California. I lived off of brown rice, rolled oats and a bag of 500 white cross Benzedrine tablets, which I consumed almost as voraciously as the books I read. This was the summer that I read Brautigan, Burroughs, Lao Tzu and perhaps most significantly Eldridge Cleaver’s Soul On Ice, a pivotal book for many teenagers of my generation. Cleaver and I came from radically different worlds but we shared something in common: a profound distrust of our government and a deep-seated hatred of racism. While Cleaver was a direct victim of racism and I was merely consumed with guilt and the shame of privilege , there was still a bond, no matter how tenuous, between my sense of cultural self-loathing and Cleaver’s outright hatred for his white oppressors, of which I was only a member genetically.
Soul On Ice got me off my hippie ass and down the mountain to the Bay Area where I went to the Oakland Branch of The Black Panther Party headquarters and volunteered to do whatever I could for the movement. A couple of Panthers with sardonic smiles on their faces handed me a bundle of “The Black Panther” newspaper and sent me out the door. I’d paid the cover price for the papers, 25 cents each, and when I was done selling them I took the revenue from the newspaper sales and donated them to the Panthers’ school breakfast program. It was a good cause and helped to mollify some of my white guilt.
It’s Eldridge Cleaver’s birthday today and I hold him still in high esteem for writing a book that shook up my world at a time when my world needed some shaking. He was no saint by a long shot and renounced his radical roots when he became a born-again Christian, but there is no denying the power and eloquence of his early writings. I found them extraordinarily moving and inspiring. In honor of Cleaver, I am sharing this excellent documentary on the Black Power Movement, All Power To The People! .
Part two of All Power To The People after the jump…
As if it wasn’t already patently obvious to everyone paying even the slightest bit of attention, last night at the Republican National Convention, 82-year-old actor Clint Eastwood took to the stage and showed America and the rest of the world what the Republican Party is REALLY all about: Senile old white gits yelling crazy, incoherent shit.
Last night, without much effort, Eastwood’s loopy “skit” turned the house full of extremely Caucasian Republican convention goers “every which way but loose.” The rest of the country was just deeply embarrassed for the octogenarian Hollywood legend. The RNC apparently wanted Clint there as the embodiment of modern Republicanism, a stand-in for Ronald Reagan, if you will. Eastwood inadvertently delivered in spades, coming off like a sad, old, spaced cowboy, giving the, uh… strong impression, that the GOP is full of crazy elderly folks suffering from senile dementia.
At least they were happy to loudly cheer one on. As Michael Moore wrote at The Daily Beast this morning:
Speaking to Invisible Obama last night, in a performance that seemed to have been written by Timothy Leary and performed by Cheech & Chong, Clint Eastwood was able to drive home to tens of millions of viewers the central message of this year’s Republican National Convention: “We Are Delusional and Detached from Reality. Vote for Us!”
With his cringe-worthy word salad performance on the same level as Sarah Palin’s, someone close to Clint Eastwood should have said “NO” and said it firmly and hung up the phone when the RNC came a callin’. Looking at the evidence of last night’s pathetic televised fiasco—and his loathsome wife and spoiled daughter’s execrable E! network reality show, Mrs. Eastwood & Company—Clint seems to be going the route of Charlton Heston, a once legendary Hollywood star, who now comes off like a cranky, punch-drunk fighter who has taken far too many blows to his noggin.
I’m sure Clint being offered the presidency of the NRA isn’t far behind!
The best part? How NO ONE is talking about Mitt Romney today. They’re all talking about how crazy old Clint Eastwood went on national tee-vee last night and shit in his diaper!
NPR political correspondent Mara Liasson put it succinctly when she described the cut-aways to Ann Romney during Eastwood’s skit as like watching “the mother of the bride listening to a drunken wedding toast.”
The Clint Eastwood memes are proliferating like Tribbles today. You’ve already seen the “Eastwooding” meme, here are a few more:
The Daily Show‘s Samantha Bee mined comedy gold yesterday at the Republican National Convention in Tampa, Florida by asking attendees about “individual liberty” and what it means to them and to Mitt Romney.
On the second night of the Republican Convention, Vice Presidential hopeful Paul Ryan stepped up to the podium as Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back In Town” played in the background and a crowd of pale-skinned squares, who wouldn’t know the difference between Thin Lizzy and a highball glass of Gin Fizz, roared with lemming-like approval.
Is the anti-drug, devout Catholic and ultra-conservative Ryan aware that Thin Lizzy’s frontman Phil Lynott, who described himself as a “black Paddy bastard,” was an alcoholic and heroin addict who died as a result of his booze and drug excesses?
If Lynott were alive today, I wonder what he would think of the irony of the uber-uptight and desperately unhip Ryan glomming onto the legacy of one of rock’s epic bad boys? Probably wouldn’t give two shits about the image thing but might have a big problem with his song being used to rally the right-wing masses.
And you gotta question what Ryan and his fellow Republican asswipes were thinking when they chose to use “The Boys Are Back In Town” as Ryan’s intro in the first place. Did they even bother to listen to the fucking lyrics of the song? They were the truest words spoken all night.
Guess who just got back today?
Them wild-eyed boys that had been away
Haven’t changed, haven’t much to say
But man, I still think them cats are crazy
Paul Ryan may try to come off as some kind of rock and roll candidate, but the dude is to rock and roll what white wine is to whiskey.
By the way, I’m pretty sure the RNC version of the “The Boys Are Back In town” was performed by the wretched G.E. Smith Band, who are serving as the Republican’s house band this year. You may remember Smith as the leering neanderthal guitarist who had a gig on Saturday Night Live for a few years and was briefly a sideman to Bob Dylan. Lately, when he’s not electrifying crowds of mouthbreathing conventioneers, he gigs with the utterly irrelevant Hot Tuna on the jamband circuit.
I really hope to fuck that this is true! Via Raw Story:
A revised Republican National Committee schedule released Monday showed a mystery “To Be Announced” speaker would take the stage just before Florida Sen. Marco Rubio and nominee Mitt Romney on Thursday night. Even the Romney campaign said that they didn’t know who it would be.
During a Wednesday report, Fox News anchor Trace Gallagher speculated on some of the possibilities. They included Sen. Joe Lieberman (I-CT), former Secretary of State Colin Powell, former First Lady Nancy Reagan, actor Clint Eastwood and NFL quarterback Tim Tebow.
But Gallagher also threw out the name of the former president as potential speaker.
“Maybe a hologram of… Ronald Reagan,” he predicted. “They could do it now with technology. And the word is, maybe they just put Ronald Reagan up on the screen using a little bit of media magic to have Ronald Reagan endorse [Mitt Romney].”
“Is that actually a theory that’s out there?” host Megyn Kelly wondered.
“Yes!” Gallagher replied. “That’s a total theory. They could do it.”
You have to love it if someone at the RNC was inspired by the hologram Tupac at the Coachella Festival to reanimate the Gipper. Life in the 21st century sure is great ain’t it? Guy DeBord would puke in his mouth to see such a spectacle, but I still hope this will come to pass. If Reagan fails to materialize like a demon onstage in Tampa tomorrow night, I shall be bitterly disappointed!
(Another theory is that the mystery speaker is Clint Eastwood. Have you seen the reality show Mrs. Eastwood & Company on the E! network with his awful wife and spoiled brat daughter? Tell me that he’s not going senile. He’d have to be!)