Archive for the 'Satire, Irony And Vitriol' Category



04
Dec
09

Who Cares About The Killers?

They were one of those bands that took awhile to grow on me, I mean, I’d heard ‘Mr Brightside’ playing on the radio for a couple of months, but didn’t really take to the song at all and as such, it just formed part of the background noise of my life during my chaotic student years while I was drinking my body weight daily and making insidious efforts to avoid doing any actual work.

 

 

My first clear memory of them is from 2004, I was in the gym (of all places) and ‘Somebody Told Me’ started pounding its way over the speakers right into my brain. Before the song was through, I was hooked and a few weeks later got my dirty paws on the album.

Even then I didn’t take it too seriously until one night, a full year later, I was suffering from the worst kind of heartache you can imagine and ‘Smile Like You Mean It’ drifted through the empty corridors of the mansion of a digs we used to live in.

It is, to this day, one of my favourite Killers songs. Something about that song resonates deeply in my bones and I think always will. It’s like the feeling you get when you go back to the house you grew up in, or the place you got your first kiss.

‘And someone will drive her around, down the same streets that I did, on the same streets that I did…’

Of course after that it was only a matter of time before I fell for the other gems Hot Fuss had to offer. I’ve belted out the lyrics of ‘All These Things I’ve Done’ at drunken parties, in drunken bars, in drunken clubs, and by myself, when I’m drunk, more times than I think I could ever count… or remember.

 

 

And yet When Sam’s Town was released in 2006, I was completely meh about the album. A buddy got it for his birthday a week after ‘When You Were Young’ started playing over the radio and we played the album on infinite repeat that weekend at his party and I can’t say it did much for me.

I remember there being some heartfelt tracks that grabbed my attention that night, in retrospect one of them was probably ‘Read My Mind’, but other than that I wasn’t really blown away by the album at all.

A year later though, ‘Exitlude’ became the story of my life. I fell in love hard and fast over two weekends with a woman who would become the love of my life but who, at the time, was only over for a short holiday because she was living in London.

When she went back to London after those ten days we spent together, I kept finding her things around my flat, a misplaced earring here, a fiery, red-golden hair there, her pyjama top mixed up in a pile of my clothes and a CD, Sam’s Town, underneath the passenger seat in my car.

‘We hope you enjoyed your stay, it’s good to have you with us, even if it’s just for a day. We hope you enjoyed your stay, outside the sun is shining, seems like heaven ain’t far away…’

 

 

Needless to say, that album fast became a favourite of mine, but it wasn’t until I heard Sawdust, the B-Sides album that came out later that year that I finally conceded that yes, The Killers were a fucking cool band.

I’ve always said judge a band not by their studio albums or radio singles, judge them rather by their live shows and their B-Sides, and Sawdust was packed full of great B-Sides.

The album was by far the edgiest release they had put out to date and as a result, not many people liked it, but personally, I was really impressed with what I was hearing, especially one of the bonus tracks, the alternate version of ‘Sam’s Town’ which is played almost exclusively on the piano.

‘I’ve got this energy beneath my feet,’ Flowers sang, ‘Like something underground’s gonna come up and carry me. I’ve got this sentimental heart that beats, but I don’t really mind that it’s starting to get to me…’

I don’t really mind that it’s starting to get to me. I sang that line a million times that year. I don’t really mind that it’s starting to get to me, because the irony implicit in that line spoke to me, it meant something to me and made me feel a certain way every time I heard it and like all art, the really good stuff, I guess on some level it made me feel less alone.

And then came Day and Age, the band’s fourth album and almost overnight, all the years of respect I’d slowly amassed for The Killers curled up into a little ball in the corner and died.

 

 

What the fuck was that? Seriously, what the fuck was that?! Because to me it sounded like it was rushed, it sounded like the band had gotten lazy and / or had sold out completely.

If you think ‘Human’ is a good track, I have some really bad news for you. You are retarded. ‘Are we human or are we dancer?’ Isn’t there an ‘S’ missing from the end of that last word? And besides that fact, isn’t that song just about the most irritating dance / pop / rock track ever to be recorded?

There is no substance to Day and Age whatsoever and to my knowledge, only two singles were released off the album, and like a fat man at a house party who farts loudly during those precious few moments between the previous song and the next one, the band seemed to slink quietly out of the room to go and reflect on what they’d done.

Day and Age made me realise that Brandon Flowers has a whiney voice. It made me realise that there are tracks off their previous albums that are really bad. I’d never listened to any of their stuff from the perspective of a hater, but Day and Age changed that, and once I started down that road I found there are a buttload of tracks off their albums that are puke-worthy.

The best song on Day and Age was the bonus track ‘A Crippling Blow’ which, ironically, I don’t think was included on the original CD and was only available if you downloaded the album off iTunes.

And so now here we sit, a year since that abortion of an album was released and I’m not sure anyone cares about this band anymore.

You can tell when a band has passed the apex of their fame when they come to South Africa on tour. It’s almost sad when I find out about bands coming to play here because the first thing I think is, ‘Ahhh jeez, do they suck that much now? Damn, I thought they were doing really well…’

And yeah, I bought tickets to go and see The Killers tonight, but am I excited about the concert? Not really. And so I find myself asking the question, Who cares about The Killers? Are they still the band they were a few years ago in everyone’s eyes?

Call me a cynical fucker, but I don’t think so. I guess tonight will be the test of that, but I really hope for the band’s sake and mine, they only play three tracks off Day and Age at the very most and for the rest of the concert we can pretend that it’s still 2006 and that this is a band we actually all still give a shit about.

-ST

01
Dec
09

Mommas Boys – A New Low For Me

Reality TV is a fascinating concept for me because it’s anything but real. Point a camera at people and they immediately start doing the weirdest things and acting COMPLETELY different from who they really are.

I’ve stared down the business end of a camera lens before and lemme tell you, the first thing that happens is your IQ drops into the single digit category and before you know it, you become one of those retards on TV that everyone likes to point and laugh at.

 

 

So I guess I have some sympathy for these so called ‘ordinary’ people who get put on screen in reality TV shows, but not much, because in the end of the day, it’s your choice whether or not you want to appear on these shows and as such, you should be held accountable for everything you do and say whilst in front of the camera.

Last night J-Rab and I curled up on the couch to watch the new reality TV show that’s replaced The Amazing Race (we don’t have satellite), which is called Momma’s Boys and all I can say is I would have preferred to spend that hour removing my molars with a pair of pliers.

The premise is simple, fill a beautiful luxury mansion with 32 single women between the ages of about 20 and 35, then make them all compete against one another for the affections of 3 single men in their mid 20s, all of whom have the personality and intelligence of a wet dish rag.

Fair enough – so far what we basically have is The Bachelor, only instead of their being one man all the women are after, there are three.

BUT there’s a twist! Three other people are along for the ride too, the men’s (boy’s?) mothers, who move into the mansion with all the girls and dispense their almighty judgement upon every woman there, because mommy knows best and there’s no way mommy will let her baby boy get together with just any little tramp.

 

 

Obviously to make the show work, the producers have managed to find the three most pathetic examples of mommy-dominated men America has to offer, whilst still making sure the men are at least physically attractive, which is true for at least two out of the three contestants. However, of those two, I’m convinced one is a closet homo.

They sure know how to pick ‘em.

 

 

To make matters worse, mommy no. 3 is possibly the most bigoted person I’ve ever seen on TV. In her interview tape at the beginning of the show she says straight up that she doesn’t want her son to date a black girl, an asian girl, or any other girl that’s not white, a jewish girl, a girl with a fat ass or a girl that doesn’t obey mommy unquestioningly.

Of course, half the girls in the mansion are non-white and when they show them this video clip before the mommies move in, they are justifiably outraged.

I mean for fuck’s sake?! You call South Africans racist? If you had to put a white, female South African in front of a camera and have her say that shit and then show it on prime time TV, she’d be tarred and feathered FOR LIFE.

The local media would crucify the bitch. She’d be left with no choice except to leave the country and go the fuck somewhere else, possibly the deep south to live in a trailer park the rest of her life.

 

 

I just don’t think it’s necessary to show that crap on TV. I don’t think it enriches the people watching it in any way and if anything panders to our most base desires to watch people basically behaving like animals.

Predictably, when this particular mommy enters the mansion, it isn’t long before she gets into a conversation with a black women that rapidly spirals out of control.

The black women works with the US Military medics in Iraq and in my opinion is clearly suffering from the early signs of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) which could account for why she decides to confront Mrs B (the bigot) and quickly becomes furious at the women’s blatantly racist views.

And all across TV land, people cheer and jump for joy as the conflict reaches a climax and the black women throws her glass of wine on the floor while other girls steer the bigot away as she swears at the black girl over her shoulder.

Is this what things have come to? How is this fucking helping anyone? How?!

The thing that gets to me the most though is that I sat through that fucking show, every minute of it, and I’ll probably do it again next week and the week after, and so that makes me no better than the rest of the morons in TV land.

Lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from TV…

-ST

24
Nov
09

My Problem With The Interblags

I didn’t always used to be this way, blogging everyday, tweeting, interacting with my imaginary friends online. There used to be a time when I would meet people in the old fashioned way, by getting drunk in bars and clubs and simultaneously bludgeoning them with my opinions while beguiling them with my witty insights.

You’re on safe ground with drunks, they’re predictable. Not so with people you meet on the internet.

 

 

Problem with me is I just don’t trust my imaginary internet friends. How can you trust a person you’ve never met before? You can’t even begin to understand a person until you’ve shaken their hand, heard their voice, watched their mannerisms and looked into their eyes.

In a lot of cases, all you get over the internet is a facade. You get the character traits and virtues that person wants you to get. In this way people live out a kind of fantasy life online – the shy, mousy girl you knew back in highschool becomes a kinky dominatrix, the weedy, Star Wars-obsessed geek becomes a loud and brash, bullying anyone who would dare to challenge his thoughts and opinions.

 

 

Then you meet these people in the real world and surprise surprise, they not only have nothing to say, but they are nothing like the people they pretend to be online. It’s so lame!

And don’t even get me started on all the retards out there, trawling porn sites and leaving their badly-written, poorly punctuated comments like horse droppings all over this supposed ‘information super-highway’.

Hank Moody, David Duchovny’s character in Californication says it best. In season one he gets interviewed on Henry Rollins’ radio show about the blog he’s writing (completely against his will) and says the following about the online world:

“People they don’t write anymore, they blog. Instead of talking, they text. No punctuation, no grammar, LOL this and LMFAO that. It seems to me that it’s just a bunch of stupid people pseudo-communicating with a bunch of other stupid people in a proto-language that resembles more what cavemen used to speak than the King’s English.”

 

 

Amen brother.

If there’s one thing I strive toward every time I sit down to write for Them’s Fightin’ Words, it’s congruity. The person you’re reading is me. I’m just as loud, crazy and vitriolic in real life as I am on this blog and I don’t give a rat’s ass who can handle it and who can’t.

Having said that, I think it’s only fair that I mention that I’ve also been surprised by how many genuine and intelligent people there are out there using this powerful and twisted medium I like to call the Interblags.

We’re not in the majority here by any means, but there is a small community of thinking, feeling people out there with a healthy appreciation of irony who aren’t robots or retards and I can’t tell you how refreshing that is.

This blog is for you. It’s never going to be huge, for a lot of reasons I don’t want it to be, but it will always be here and so will I, so don’t be a stranger 😉

-ST

19
Nov
09

Death By Ayoba!

What I dig about South Africa is that every year when summer rolls around, the cell phone network providers all ramp up their advertising and bombard us from all sides with ‘Summer this’ and ‘Summer that’ and shots of mixed racial groups partying on beaches, having the time of their lives.

And all the while, I look at these ad campaigns and think to myself, How come I don’t hang out in mixed racial groups? Why do I only have whites for friends pretty much with the exception of some Indians and one or two peripheral blacks? What the hell is wrong with me? Christ, I’m a racist bastard!

 

 

Then to make matters worse, they choose some random word in a black language I don’t understand and shove it in my face every opportunity they get.

This year it’s ‘Ayoba’ (thanks MTN), I’ve probably read that word about 50 times in the last week alone and there’s still essentially two months of summer holiday advertising to go.

By the end of it all, the word will probably be burned into my retina. I’ll wake up, pouring sweat in the middle of the night, wide-eyed, screaming ‘AYOBA! AYOBA! AAAYYYOOOOOBBBBBAAAAA!’

 

 

I think what gets to me is the fact that they attach all this meaning to a word that they know non-black people won’t understand. Why do they do that? It doesn’t seem like the smartest way to encourage racial unity in SA.

‘Hey guys!’

‘What!’

‘I’ve got a GREAT idea for our new campaign!’

‘YOU’RE INCREDIBLE! Cutmeanotherlineofcocaineandtellusallaboutit!’

‘OK! Check it out! There are WAAAAAAAYYYYY more blacks than whites in this country right?’

‘YA!’

‘Cool! Let’s make an advertising campaign that ONLY black people will understand!’

SCHNARF!

‘THAT’S AMAZING!’

‘Yeah, we’ll create a sense of unity amongst the black community while ostracising the whites and making them feel completely unhip, uncool and sidelined!’

‘FUCK YEAH! BRILLIANT IDEA! STUPID WHITES, SERVES THEM RIGHT! MAKE THEM FEEL MORE GUILTY FOR BEING WHITE, THOSE APARTHEID-ENFORCING BIGOTTED FUCKERS!’

‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!’

‘…umm guys…’

‘WHAT?!?’

‘We’re white…’

‘Whatever! Shuttup! MORE COCAINE!’

 

 

To make things worse, you’ll probably find that the meaning of Ayoba is something completely arbitrary.

After I typed that last sentence I did a little Ugoogle-ising and found the following gem posted on the Jacaranda FM website:

“Ayoba – the word for 2010.

The word for excitement, cool,

fun… pride… joy… football… winning!!!”

Fuck, no wonder they chose that word for their campaign, it means EVERYTHING. Wait, it gets better:

“MTN is celebrating summer by adding ‘Ayoba-ness’ to everything it does”

Well that’s just fucking great. Expect to have this word screamed at you from billboards, TVs, newspapers, radios and magazines at FULL volume.

Ayoba! Ayoba! Ayoba!

And all over the country, whites, indians, coloureds, hell even the Chinese, will be scratching their heads in unison, all thinking exactly the same thing, ‘What the fuck does that mean?’

And as is the case with pretty much everything that gets regurgitated into mainstream media these days, the answer is simple.

It means nothing.

The more people that don’t know the meaning of it the better because it means nothing, it’s just a worm dangling off the hook of the happy holiday summer consumer spendasmuchmoneyasyoucan idea that they want you to swallow.

I’ve got a better idea. Here’s my fist. Let’s see you swallow that.

-ST