- Belle and Sebastian, "I'm a Cuckoo" in it's entirety...
"I'd Rather Be in Tokyo"
Despite the moral at the center of the quiet, think-piece flick Kill Bill, the greatest revenge is living well, and nothing proves that better than the nation of Japan.
We dropped two atom bombs on this tiny island empire, then we forced them to become a capitalist democracy. You can't tell me there ain't no resentment in all that, but did Japan try to push our buttons by getting chummy with communists or any other geo-political pissing contests? No. They turned around, followed the whole American plan, and became exactly what we told them to and then some.
They've got my General-Motors-worshipping roommate cursing the threat of Japanese automobile companies. And they've got America by the balls by hitting us where we live: in front of our televisions. That, and they've left an entire generation of our keenest and most analytical thinkers impotent by unleashing the mind-sapping force of Nintendo.
All this, and their's is a culture that recognizes comic books as a mainstream art form. So that tears it: First I'll hit Pella, Iowa, then I'll continue my wanderings in the land of the rising sun. It's as simple as that.
"Absolution is a Four-Letter Word"
During my tour of duty at Good ol' Archbishop O'Hara High School, My Beloved Tin-Tin had this hilarious tendency of asking every Protestant person he met the same question: "Do you guys even know what you're protesting anymore?"
Big mistake. Especially around Baptists.
Growing up Catholic, you get used to a couple of things: Watered down and backwashed wined and the implications of vampirism therewith, wafers that bring cardboard to mind far more than flesh, spontaneous flourishes of guilt, and the Protestant Complaints (which were known as The 95 Theses back in the day, but I digress): "Why do you guys worship Mary?" "Why do you guys listen to the Pope? Isn't he a rich jerk?" "Why do you guys have to confess your sins to a priest? Isn't accepting Jesus as your personal saviour enough for you people?"
Now, I take a fairly skewed (read "secular" or "post-modern" or "pragmatic" or "agnostic" or "lapsed Catholic") approach to Christianity, so my general response this type of thing is: "Who the hell cares? It's just empty ritual. You've got yours, we've got ours. Go bother the Buddhists." It's not something I'm going to apologize for, but I will say that it has cost me dearly. That being said, I've been thinking about it, and I think I get confession:
The things that weigh on your soul have a tendency to be things you carry in your heart. Our sins become walls that shut us off from the other people. Carelessly constructed barriors that reinforce the infrastructure or our internal world, and the internal world is one of those prisons that your build for yourself and don't want to get trapped in. And the best way to step out is to bare your soul. Let it the bad shit out. Acknowledge your mistake. Say it out loud when someone else is listening. Then get over it.
As my favorite Lutheran may remember, I'm not a big fan of the word "absolution," even if James Cameron used it in Titanic. (Maybe especially because James Cameron used it in Titanic.) But after careful consideration, I think I'd really like some of that right now.
"Therapy"
My favorite fictional therapy sessions:
*Martin holding Dr. Oatman hostage in Grosse Point Blank.
*Peter Parker tracking down Nick Fury following the Venom fiasco in Ultimate Spider-Man #39, and his subsequent run-in with a drunk and rambling Curt Connors shortly thereafter.
*All those hapless desk attendants I used to harangue during their afternoon shifts.
I had the weirdest dream about drinking orange juice nude in the presense of an unexpected house guest. Do you think that means something, or was Morpheus (or is he Daniel these days?) just messing with me?
There’s something wrong with me. I’m a cuckoo.
"I'd Rather Be in Tokyo"
Despite the moral at the center of the quiet, think-piece flick Kill Bill, the greatest revenge is living well, and nothing proves that better than the nation of Japan.
We dropped two atom bombs on this tiny island empire, then we forced them to become a capitalist democracy. You can't tell me there ain't no resentment in all that, but did Japan try to push our buttons by getting chummy with communists or any other geo-political pissing contests? No. They turned around, followed the whole American plan, and became exactly what we told them to and then some.
They've got my General-Motors-worshipping roommate cursing the threat of Japanese automobile companies. And they've got America by the balls by hitting us where we live: in front of our televisions. That, and they've left an entire generation of our keenest and most analytical thinkers impotent by unleashing the mind-sapping force of Nintendo.
All this, and their's is a culture that recognizes comic books as a mainstream art form. So that tears it: First I'll hit Pella, Iowa, then I'll continue my wanderings in the land of the rising sun. It's as simple as that.
"Absolution is a Four-Letter Word"
During my tour of duty at Good ol' Archbishop O'Hara High School, My Beloved Tin-Tin had this hilarious tendency of asking every Protestant person he met the same question: "Do you guys even know what you're protesting anymore?"
Big mistake. Especially around Baptists.
Growing up Catholic, you get used to a couple of things: Watered down and backwashed wined and the implications of vampirism therewith, wafers that bring cardboard to mind far more than flesh, spontaneous flourishes of guilt, and the Protestant Complaints (which were known as The 95 Theses back in the day, but I digress): "Why do you guys worship Mary?" "Why do you guys listen to the Pope? Isn't he a rich jerk?" "Why do you guys have to confess your sins to a priest? Isn't accepting Jesus as your personal saviour enough for you people?"
Now, I take a fairly skewed (read "secular" or "post-modern" or "pragmatic" or "agnostic" or "lapsed Catholic") approach to Christianity, so my general response this type of thing is: "Who the hell cares? It's just empty ritual. You've got yours, we've got ours. Go bother the Buddhists." It's not something I'm going to apologize for, but I will say that it has cost me dearly. That being said, I've been thinking about it, and I think I get confession:
The things that weigh on your soul have a tendency to be things you carry in your heart. Our sins become walls that shut us off from the other people. Carelessly constructed barriors that reinforce the infrastructure or our internal world, and the internal world is one of those prisons that your build for yourself and don't want to get trapped in. And the best way to step out is to bare your soul. Let it the bad shit out. Acknowledge your mistake. Say it out loud when someone else is listening. Then get over it.
As my favorite Lutheran may remember, I'm not a big fan of the word "absolution," even if James Cameron used it in Titanic. (Maybe especially because James Cameron used it in Titanic.) But after careful consideration, I think I'd really like some of that right now.
"Therapy"
My favorite fictional therapy sessions:
*Martin holding Dr. Oatman hostage in Grosse Point Blank.
*Peter Parker tracking down Nick Fury following the Venom fiasco in Ultimate Spider-Man #39, and his subsequent run-in with a drunk and rambling Curt Connors shortly thereafter.
*All those hapless desk attendants I used to harangue during their afternoon shifts.
I had the weirdest dream about drinking orange juice nude in the presense of an unexpected house guest. Do you think that means something, or was Morpheus (or is he Daniel these days?) just messing with me?
There’s something wrong with me. I’m a cuckoo.
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