In Defense of the Critic

Being a critic is a thankless job, most often. I admire real life critics who do it for a living. After all, it is the ultimate “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” profession¹. You are always going to hurt someone, cross someone off. Let me get straight to the point, for once, and only just this once.

I was accused, recently, of criticizing things far too much, having no authority in the fields I am criticizing people for, and while that is completely true, the premise is utter bullshit.

For the sake of coherence, which I doubt too many of my readers are comfortable with, I will go about this in logical sequence, another thing brainwashed sheep have difficulty doing. Having accepted the criticism that I have no authority in the fields I choose to criticize people in, the proposition on the table is that I should graciously accept defeat and cease any further attempts at criticizing things I do not understand. Well, I am willing to accept that proposition, but only as long as my one condition is met, and anyone with half a rational brain (again, it would appear I am singing to the tone deaf) would agree that what I am about to suggest isn’t too unfair.

So, all those of you, anxious to know the key to shutting me up, hear me well. The same rules must apply to you as well. Since none of you are authorities on music, movies, literature, politics, cars and practically everything under the sun, YOU HAVE TO SHUT THE FUCK UP as well. When you stop opining about how good the latest Michael Bay fiasco is, or how good Ledger’s joker was (oh, what a bitter-sweet was that is), or how great Michael Jackson’s mediocre song and dance styles really are (if you take out the pop out of it), then I will follow suit. When you admit that you have no basis to be showering laurels on these sorry excuses for “artists” and that you will forever purse your lips regarding your personal attempts to glorify these people, I will lay down my pen.

Before I end, I must clear the air. My comments on my facebook status message etc, about the mediocrity of the pedophilic Michael Jackson as an artist, were hardly to stir shit up. That is my true opinion. Would the world have lost out if Michael never sung a single note? Not mine. And while it is politically incorrect to diss the dead, I have never cared for being politically correct. So here is a big fuck you to Michael Jackson fans, and a vehement fuck you to Sacha Baron Cohen and Universal for bending over backwards. If you can’t handle the witty and not so witty snipes at “MJ” (funny, how that is so similar to OJ) then don’t fucking watch TV, don’t visit my blog and definitely DO NOT click on this next link.

Another contribution of MJ to pop-culture is definitely his contribution to costume design on movie sets, having inspired the alien in M. Shyamalan's Signs and the instantly noticeable Joker, from the crap-chute that was The Dark Knight.

Yes Michael, I know “You’re bad”. Now if we can only get rid of the Catholic Church, the kids will be safe.

And for those looking for a moment of sensitivity, Billy Mays just died last month as well. He will be missed. He did have a soothing voice. Or he just nagged the fuck out of you till you bought something. But he will still be missed by me; Funny guy.

1. Unfortunately, the professional critics are just whored out publicists. I have yet to come across a decent review of a “mega-hype” movie that does justice to the profession, whether it be favorable or not.
   
   
2. I was thinking about calling this post, “Fuck You, Michael Jackson”. Only one thing prevented me. The possibility that he really was a pedophile and that a title like that might be insensitive to the plight of the kids whose lives MJ touched.

Butter-fry Effect.

The insignificant flutter of a butterfly’s wings on the remotest corners¹ of the earth may be elemental in the production of large disasters. The mystique of cause-effect relationships that seem outwardly unconnected is explained by the butterfly effect. But so potent is this perception that its agents are visible in every facet of our lives, on every avenue.

Even so, on my first work related “road trip”, leaving as early as 5 A.M. for Wisconsin, the work of this miraculous agent was quite visible.

Road trips have often been a topic of Hollywood flicks, from the absurdly retarded Road Trip series to much more endearing dramas, these movies offer a snapshot into country America.

As dissociated as events in some of these movies may be to real life, they mimic life in the most uncanny of ways. They cross barriers, geographic, cultural and perhaps even economic. I am, of course, talking about “rest stops”.

But as we stopped for breakfast, the reality of the butterfly effect and its unpleasant bedfellow; globalization, dawned on me. The oasis we had breakfast at a glaring example of the adulteration of our modern day lives by the whorifying enabler of globalization; Consumerism. With McDonalds at the right, taco bell to the left and everything in between a sampling of the finest in franchise cuisine America has to offer. As we embrace the gifts of globalization, the cost-cutting it affords us, we choose to ignore the local businesses that rely on our continued patronage for survival.

But in our pursuit of wealthiness, we have let slip the very essence that made those movies endearing. The small town cafes, bistros, pancake houses, moronically replaced by corporate food cloners that serve only to stifle the creativity that makes us unique, the servers grudgingly serving a daily dish of rude awakening. As we pinch pennies, filling the coffers of big business, we pay the ultimate price as we let them control our lives, our choices, our individualism; and effectively our freedom. I guess this fast paced life will overwhelm the abilities of our generation to sample the diversity of human evolution as we zombify our very existence.

Note:
1. A turn of phrase, obviously, originating in the day of old world "knowledge" where the earth was flat. Just as we keep the phrase and its intended meaning in spite of dispelling the darkening myth that gave birth to it, so it isn't entirely inconceivable for an atheist like me to use common phrases of language that invoke the imaginary supernatural being that supposedly gave birth to all that exists.

You have been warned. The next person to question the hypocrisy of using these phrases gets punched in the face.