I am between tears and rage at this wonderful revelation, Satyr. I was just watching ‘Mad TV,’ my favorite show, and as you know they have a guest band play a song between the skits. This band was called the “Stokes,” if I remember correctly, but you should have seen these skinny little fuckers.
They had the whole “my life is miserable and I’m suffering because nobody understands me so I’ll sing a depressing song to express my sentiments, which will be sold as a product to miserable people everywhere who don’t know the difference between finger-nails across a chalk-board and an actual piece of music.” They exhibited the the new modern retro/goth/beat-nik style, you know, the sports jacket over the t-shirt, the tight jeans with holes in the knees, the messed up ‘bed-hair,’ the ‘druggy’ look, etc., etc., and they played some of the worst shit I have ever heard.
The song was composed of a couple chords, and of course it was in the predictable and mundane 4/4 time signature. It was absolute trash. In addition, the band members were ‘posturing’ with their instruments, the drummer had this look of intense concentration on his face, you know, the “if I make this look more complicated than it really is, people will think the song is better.”
Now get this. The audience was actually grooving to the music, but it wasn’t sincere. It was the “oh, this must be the part where we are supposed to support the band by swaying back and forth to the beat” deal.
What do I see here? I see the spirit of the age. I see the signs of decline in this ‘art.’ These guys weren’t ‘men’ or ‘women,’ they were some kind of empty automaton product, some kind of robot created to make fat men rich in the music industry.
Anyway, I thought I might share this with you. You have a very profound and sublime knowledge of things to come, Satyr, and I see it perfectly, especially on TV. The commercials, talk shows, sit-coms, all of it, geared to hypnotize a world of mindless consumers.
You and I might just be the last men standing on Earth, my friend. And its funny to think that the larger percentage of ILP are these people who I describe and they think to themselves “no way, detrop isn’t talking about me, just because I wear body-spray, have accessories all over my car, and listen to ‘hip-hop’ doesn’t make me a disaster.”
I speak too soon. These people are not ready for their destiny.