This Carbon Based Life

By David Glenn Cox

My lord, the things conservatives and Maga can get their bowels in an uproar about these days. A halftime show at a football game, really? A time designed to get up and go take a piss and get another beer. While not leaving the TV screen totally blank. But no! They’re pissed off! Hotter than hell! But the Super Bowl is so over-hyped, anyway. Even the TV commercials are over-hyped with corporations spending millions and millions of dollars on television ads the public will forget in a few days, anyway.

Generally, in my humble opinion Super Bowl halftime shows are always terrible, no matter who the artists are. It is a terrible venue for a performer. Sixty thousand screaming fans plus a moving stage with fireworks doing your twenty minutes. Sixty thousand fans who did not come to see you. Half of whom might not even know who you are. Some might be your fans while most couldn’t care less. Sing your little song and get off.

Paul McCartney, the Rolling Stones, or the Who are legends. Most of the others are flash in the pan big deal today, forgotten-tomorrow artists. Playing the Super Bowl halftime show is almost a farewell swan song. You’ve played the Super Bowl now, kid; now, it’s all downhill from here. Residency at a Las Vegas casino, here I come!

I’m not a big fan of rap or of most modern music. It’s not that I’m close minded, it just doesn’t appeal to me because it’s not supposed to appeal to me. If a Bad Bunny song appealed to me, his career would be over in a fortnight. I’m old enough to remember the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show. And oh, the talk the next day among our elders. Appalling, the decline of Western civilization! Did you see their long hair? And, like my father predicted about Elvis, “He’ll be back driving a truck in Memphis in a year.” The music didn’t appeal to him because it wasn’t supposed to appeal to him.

But the modern music industry is corporatized, amalgamated, fast-food processed cheese food spread. If Bad Bunny wasn’t wearing a dress, or had flaming pink hair, or a bone stuck through his nose. No one would notice! Appearance is everything! Does he worship the devil? Does he sleep upside down in an oxygen chamber? Does he only eat mayonnaise sandwiches? Oh, please, bring back the pure artists like Marilyn Manson or Rob Zombie!

Country music today is Lynyrd Skynyrd in a cowboy hat. Rock music with cornball lyrics and a neo-patriotic twang. Vapid and empty, light-years from Johnny Cash or Waylon Jennings. “I keep a close watch on this heart of mine.” Three albums, kid, and you’re out of here! Next! Is he or she covered with tattoos or piercings? Why not? Can she sing nearly naked? Why not? Is it a song about patriotism, pickup trucks, domestic abuse, or drinkin? Why not?

Jesse Welles was nominated for four Grammy Awards, and he won exactly none of them. Not surprising, really. Grammy Awards are the musical equivalent of the JD Power initial quality awards. Purchased, fabricated, and totally meaningless. Pink Floyd? Maybe you’ve heard of them. They had an album in the top 100 for 970 weeks! Dark Side of the Moon has sold over 50 million copies worldwide. Pink Floyd has won exactly ONE Grammy Award. Just one, for an instrumental track.

But see, Jesse Welles isn’t signed to a big-time corporate recording label. If he were, he’d have flaming red hair and a sequin suit with a bone stuck through his nose. And maybe a flashy guitar with his name on it in flashing lights. Normal! WTF! Normal! Nobody wants to see someone normal sing songs! Instead, Welles just keeps selling out venues all around the world night after night. He just keeps singing his songs about current events and social issues. And if you watch the videos from his live performances, you’ll hear the audience singing along with every word. They’ve listened to his songs over and over, and have memorized them. That says something a ten-gallon cowboy hat and a sequin suit with a laser light show can’t. The audience is there to hear his songs, not just to see a show. It’s not about the bright lights, the lasers, or the pyrotechnics they came to see.

I don’t believe Mr. Welles will ever be invited to sing at the Super Bowl. If he were, it would probably signal the end of his career. But there is nothing really new here. Woody Guthrie was fired for not singing the songs the boss man wanted to hear. Instead, he sang the songs the audience wanted to hear. Songs about injustice and social issues. Songs that make billionaires and corporations uncomfortable. Get me the guy with the navy-blue hair and the bone through his nose! Willie and Waylon and Johnny Cash were run out of Nashville on a rail. Who wants to listen to those old guys? They have real contracts earning real money! Get me that gullible kid in the bandana. They feed on the memory of Hank Williams, but they won’t put him in the Grand ole Opry Hall of Fame. They want to feed on his memory without really honoring him. They never liked Luke the Drifter, anyway.

Personally, if it’s an artist I don’t care for. Rather than scream and shout, throw myself on the floor chew on the carpet and pout. I simply don’t listen. That’s why God invented the mute button. But WHAA! It isn’t what I like! He sings in Spanish! “Michelle, my belle (Ooh, ooh) Sont des mots qui vont très bein ensemble (Ooh, ooh) Très bein ensemble (Ooh, ooh)”

It’s not that Bad Bunny sings in Spanish. It’s that Bad Bunny sings in Spanish! He does it on purpose, just to rile them. Conservatives and Maga take offence at that! You should only sing in English. Because, because, because we said so. That’s why! Because it reminds conservatives and Maga that it is a diverse world with all kinds of music, opinions. and beliefs, and there is room for everyone. If you don’t like it, don’t listen. I’ve never seen or heard a Super Bowl halftime show; I wished I’d recorded. I don’t even remember who the artist was last year. Just as we won’t remember who this year’s artist was, next year.

It’s simply venue for conservatives and Maga to piss and moan that someone is doing something trying to gore their ox or fuck their sheep. So they slap together Kid Rock with a collection of nobodies for an alternative halftime show. There! That ought to show those Liberals and communist network executives! You can’t push us around! We’re going to listen to the glorious sounds of Chip Cornflake, Chad Oldsmobile, and Ivanna Dye. That’ll show em! Sing in Spanish in my Super Bowl, will ya?  Well, we’ll just show you! It’s the musical equivalent of the Malaria Trump documentary.

You know what? I don’t like the teams playing in the Super Bowl this year. It’s just not fair! I wanted MY favorite teams to play! I’ll show them! I’ll teach them all a lesson! They’ll learn not to fuck around with me! I’ll organize an alternative Super Bowl with MY favorite teams and a halftime show they will never forget. The Archies, singing their greatest hit! With a Red Sovine tribute band singing “Come on Back Teddy Bear” and a collection of Spike Jones classics.

“I’m vile and perverted.
I’m obsessed and deranged.
I’ve existed for years but very little has changed.
I’m the tool of the government and industry too.
For I’m destined to rule and regulate you.
You may think I’m pernicious, but you can’t look away.
I’ll make you think I’m delicious with the stuff that I say.
I’m the best you can get… have you guessed me yet?
I’m the slime oozing out of your TV set….”
― Frank Zappa

Also from This Carbon-Based Life, “Cooking in a Coffee Pot stories from the road.”

Cooking in a Coffee Pot