The Fanboy Cliche

Sometimes I wonder if I am just a stock character in this novel called life.  I seem to fit a certain profile, or have the same interests as a large number of people with similar profiles.  Maybe any such thinking is a misperception in that I know we are all individuals, and that the combination of what interests us in particular is what makes us special; but I have to say sometimes I like feeling like I am part of a group while at other times I try to buck conventions and be outside of that same cliche.  Unavoidably, I am something of a Fanboy however, and I think I can try to defend why there are so many of us.

I use the term Fanboy, (there are Fangirls, props to the women), to describe males who are interested in comic books, science fiction, fantasy, Dungeons and Dragons, Star Wars, and cinema based on these iconic corporate entities.  Maybe you have noticed at the movies that there are a lot of us Fanboys around these days.  Some people gravitate to these public art forms because they see the crowd forming and come over to see what is so interesting.  As people we like to feel like we belong to something while still retaining our solitary existences and autonomy at the same time, and as popular culture embraces the Fanboy our numbers grow.  But what drives the Fanboy, the true fan who would, or did, love all of this stuff before it became a staple of modern popular culture?

That’s a little more complicated, but speaking only for myself: being a Fanboy has nothing to do with a feeling of inclusion.  I liked all of this stuff when it was tragically uncool to do so.  I hid my comic books in the closet when friends came over, then in a trunk when I was away at boarding school, and basically kept all of this Fanboy stuff very close to the vest until a girlfriend in college taught me I was okay, not worthy of ridicule, and most likely not going to lose all my friends if I told them I liked Tolkien and comics.

She was right, in a big way, but it was still something of a revelation to find out that the Lord of the Rings are up there with the Bible as the books printed in greatest volume, (to the tune of like 500 million copies of the four books combined), and while comic book characters garner tons of attention in the movies, it was actually in the nineties when comic books themselves experienced their heyday, some publishing to the tune of 1,200,000 copies of a single issue.  Throw in the phenomenon that was the Star Wars re-release and I started to talk openly about being a fan of these different genres and strange subcultures, and became a part of how what might have once been a subculture gradually are supplanting the dominant culture.

I don’t know how many modern painters you can name, or the names of your favorite paintings, but I bet you know a few comic book heroes on sight.  Yes I know I am mixing two very different marketing plans here, but ask Andy Warhol’s ghost and you will hear that most painters would love to be household names like Spider Man or Batman, they just can’t swing the backing of major corporations like Disney or Time Warner, although they might like to if they had their way (although probably not, painters are a very idealistic lot and seek popularity and obscurity at the same time, as only the idealistic can).  Occasionally a James Cameron or a George Lucas combine the dynamics of mass culture and visual genius into modern motion pictures, and deserve a lot of credit for being able to do so, but they are exceptions to the rule.  Right now, more people have heard of Wolverine then have heard of his creators (Len Wein and John Romita Sr.), and such is the nature of popular comic book culture.

Okay, tangent taken, back to the main idea: why am I such a cliche?  For one thing comic book art, movies, and mass market paperbacks, sometimes seem like the only art around.  If you live in New York, or DC, or Paris or something, sure, you can go see Modern Art whenever you like.  I live in Camden, Delaware.  The local art scene bites, I don’t know any local painters, and the sad fact is the comic book shop ten minutes down the road delivers paintings, drawings, and stories in mass quantities every Wednesday at noon.  New art, pictures and stories arrive weekly, and I like that.  Yes, I can go into the city and see some paintings from time to time, and I do, but the consistent exposure to popular artwork I experience has something to do with a superior distribution technique.

Fanboy genres are also very inclusive.  I like comic books, etc., because they are happening now, in my day and age.  This is a contemporary artistic movement if you will, and I prefer this at times to studying the murals of post colonial Indochina.  This is my culture in the sense that it reflects where I live and breathe, and you can see popular icons like the Beastie Boys and Harry Potter cycled through these art forms in a way that makes them seem like they speak my language, the language of these contemporary times in my United States.

Yes, I admit, there is an element of nostalgia to the whole affair.  But why would I want to remember being a hated and secretive comic book hoarder unless the art was so moving when I was younger that I am willing to relive the painful memories of friendless nerdiness every time I read a comic book or read a fantasy novel?  This artwork was worth social ostracization when I was younger, and if it keeps me from having luck with the ladies now, well then, it’s hard to argue that I am reliving better times.

If anything a fair complaint that I have arrested my development somehow with all the medications I am on might be made, but this doesn’t get at why I don’t watch television, or still listen to Bon Jovi.  I should be like most males, stuck in some James Bond, Donald Trump day dream of endless wealth and promiscuous sex, but I’m not.  Yes, there are a lot of Americans who identify with the loner and the outsider, but to identify oneself as a loner or outsider usually takes some development psychologically, not fixation in some earlier stage.  I know I am not cool, hell I’m 36, it’s cool to not be cool at my age, and all of this is confusing as hell, but it’s simplest to stay I’m not stuck, I chose this, I’m a Fanboy, and I read some weird stuff.  Deal with it.

Attack of the Book #1

While this sounds like a better title for a story about the Jehovah’s Witnesses who came to my door this weekend trying to save me from ditches, beer, fornicating, and other things generally agreed upon to be fun, it is actually a title for the first book review in a series of reviews of everything I read.  Yes, lucky you, you get to hear about a cool book this time, and yes you should read more.

And it is a cool book I’m beginning the series with; OMEN, a Fate of the Jedi book in the Star Wars series, written by the talented Christie Golden, while you might already want to debate this.  Sure I could write a review about As You Like It, or Finnegan’s Wake, or some of the nerdy stuff I have been reading the past few weeks, but I don’t expect to say anything that hasn’t already been said about those books while there’s a lot to say about Star Wars.

For instance:  there are Star Wars books.  Lots of them.  Hard to believe, I know, but they’ve been fleshing out the stories told in the movies with additional science fiction novels for a long time now.  I don’t know when exactly the first in the series came out, I could look it up and seem wiser, but it had to be back in the 80s because for as long as I can remember these titles have been piling up and piling up and piling up.  They are using the books to explore from 3500 years before the first movie, to about 35 years after the last movie - of course these movies were released out of order, so you are already confused - but if you’re with me, I don’t have to tell you, the Star Wars universe is big: bigger than future movies could possibly cover.  There have to be over 100 books in the series now, heck, the list takes three pages of fine print to list, and everyone from Timothy Zahn to Terry Brooks has written one, it’s a very big clubhouse.

The thing is, the books can be very good.  Sure, some of them are stinkers, aimed at young adults, or just fleshed out side notes on the Clone Wars that seem like strange footnotes in a long fictional history, but others are grown up, entertaining, page turners, that keep some of your favorite characters alive while illuminating aspects of the Force and the Dark Side for those infected by the story line and unable to get enough.

This review is specifically aimed at the uninitiated:  so I will throw out a SPOILER ALERT right here, if you don’t want to find out that Luke Skywalker got married, had a kid, and then his wife died, and now father and son have been banished and are looking for lost force techniques previously studied by Jacen Solo, son of, yes, Leia and Han, who was the emperor of the galaxy for a short while before turning Sith and going bad, then you missed this sentence.

The books can seem busy, or they can flow, it depends on how many of the old ones you have read to some degree.

I loved OMEN, the second book in the Fate of the Jedi series, because they are playing off a schizophrenic symptom to create psychological drama.  Specifically: certain Jedi are getting confused to the point where they think everyone around them has been replaced with fakes, replicas, or clones, while implying the Jedi are either infected, or insane.  This book doesn’t solve the mystery, but it does throw a few Jedi into total insanity and I love it.  Jedi need to go insane.  They are pretty tightly wound bunch of psuedo-buddhists trying to save the Universe from the dangers of darkness, (look it’s a moral relativistic term, they still love Lando Calrissian and talk about him all the time.  Darkness is dangerous not in a skin tone sense, but in a big black Darth Vader sense.  Yeah, it is a little confusing).  Before I get sued, let me say this: I love the books.  You should read them.  This is an advertisement for the Fate of the Jedi Series, (and I have no money if you are thinking of suing).

So: crazy Jedi, Sith, and it was short - I don’t think the book broke 300 pages - all made it an awesome page turner tour de force, ahem, and I think if you have not read anything in this series, and you think you love Star Wars, you are really missing out.  If you need assistance, go to the bookstore and find the Star Wars books, (this is not hard, it’s near science fiction), and open any of the books and look a few pages inside the front cover.  There you will find the massive chart of all eras, and get to decide where you want to start your exploration of a galaxy that is, without a doubt, one of the coolest.

For those who say, “hey, you’re just a crazy schizophrenic to like Star Wars, and what is going on in Joyce, and why didn’t you write about Shakespeare?”  Let me allay you literary fears, these Star Wars books won’t bite you.  Except perhaps in an infectious, vampiric, lust for the blood of these pulpy paperbacks, way.  It is an addiction, to get involved with these different fantasy universes, (see comic book posts for more), as I know they will be churning out more books in the series even long after I am dead and gone.  But that’s kind of the point: the Star Wars Universe is strong like the Force, it has been expanded, and there are a lot of us out here addicted so back off literary person!  Read what you like, I say.  And I do....

The End of Writing

No, I’m not done blogging, that’s not what this is about.  After a break for a week I return with a lot of excitement for this medium.  I guess I could call this blog “what end writing?” but that’s pretty heavy and philosophical and not really what I’m after.  I am reconsidering the role writing plays in my life and thought I would let you in on what I’ve decided.

After five years I have too small an audience to sustain the work of writing.  Writing is work.  Calling writing your job I think entails getting paid for it, but whether or not you get paid it is still work.  If the work justifies the expenditure of time and effort with commensurate healing or entertainment as the end result I guess it could be called a volunteer job.  If you are writing to no audience, for no money, and accomplishing little healing, I think you have to consider whether you are only in it for the entertainment you get out of it yourself.

I wrote for a long time with the full intention of eventually getting paid for the effort.  These dreams have largely faded.  Let’s be clear, I’m not after money for money’s sake, but as an indicator that the work is valued.  I might give away all the money I make to charities, but I can use dollar amounts to talk about one sense of value of my writing.  This career is a tough one to break into, and even when one has some success it is very difficult to pay all your bills as a writer.  Serious writers tend to teach or do some other career to make ends meet, and commercial writers can find a lot of success but also a lot of competition in the established genres.  It is wonderful hearing about success stories, but long term success requires a lot of luck, talent, and understanding of the writing marketplace; I have learned about the marketplace but I can’t do much about my luck or talent levels, so it looks like I won’t get paid for my efforts.

I don’t think you can make an argument that you are contributing if you have no audience.  Writing in a vacuum, to be saved digitally on-line for eternity, might please the writer, but I don’t think it’s much of a contribution. I believe in art for art’s sake, but you can’t call that a job, volunteer or otherwise; art for art’s sake is instead a philosophy to beautify your life and the life of others, and it has to be integrated into a full life, including work.

Writing works better as a clear cut entertainment with me designated as the entertained.  As such it is exciting and fun, and I find it more stimulating than the television I don’t watch.  But this process of writing, without any audience, is just me entertaining myself; it is not morally or ethically much different than television, comic books, listening to music, or whatever it is one enjoys.  That may seem harsh, but I think it’s the truth.

Maybe it could be argued that by occasionally sharing my work, as I do, with friends and family, the art is justified.  This is still a type of play however, a part of an incomplete life without making a contribution.  Unless I am reaching the numbers of people where my writing could be considered a job or career, I am just enriching other’s experience of my self.  Not a bad plan, and I’ll keep at it, but only on a part-part-time basis.

I thought for a brief moment that if I blogged every day about everything important in the universe I could justify this habit as work, but no.  This is just me entertaining myself, and as such, blogging is important but not very disciplined.

This is all a very long way of saying that I think I have found a job.  I hope I will soon start working as a peer advocate in the mental health profession here in Dover, Delaware.  This is a job not in the sense that I will earn money (although I will, and there is a sense of value there), but I consider it a job in that I will be contributing and helping others lead happier healthier lives.  If I could say the same about my writing I’d be torn as to whether or not to pursue it, if I thought I could make a contribution, as indicated by having an audience.

For those of the persuasion that one should toil in obscurity for all of one’s life to make great art and never look back, I have to ask if they are over valuing their work or the work of their loved ones.  This is not Van Gogh’s time, very few artists can slip through the cracks here in America.  We live in an age where there is no shortage of books and written material, mostly a shortage of interested readers when television, movies, video games, music, and all the varied entertainments of modernity compete in the same marketplace.  If you compete and are a success, more power to you, you’re probably a lot more talented than I am.  If you are one of the many who labor at your art with no audience, like I did, I don’t know what to tell you.  This isn’t advice for others, just me hearing myself talk, and that’s my point.

While true persistence is necessary to eventual success and no one makes it without some effort, perhaps a good rule of thumb is five years of trying to be an artist without an audience.  Working on your art beyond five years is important too, but doing so full time might be a waste of your potential to create positive change in your world and your community.

I’m dropping the pretension that I work at writing, if you can believe it, I do this kind of stuff for fun...

Confusion and Mayhem

I am lucky enough to have two friends from two different periods of my life now living on two different coasts who are both amazing musicians and songwriters.  My friend Matt, from college, now in California, has written many the fine song and gained some attention with his band MADRONA, and I have a huge catalogue of his projects that I have collected over the years.  Now, like this week, my friend Sam, from junior high, now in Rhode Island, has chimed into the musical conversation with a stellar four song EP called “You got to” by his band the #a! ones.

Fortunately, none of Sam’s songs were about me.  This sounds like a presumption of major intensity but bare with me.  I have a point in here somewhere.  You see, unlike many the critic who would go the distance to argue why their friends make the best music around while claiming objectivity I will do away with such pretense and just be a fan.  But I will tell you that having song writers for friends can be confusing for the schizophrenic.

My MADRONA collection is deep.  I have work by Matt spanning ten years, totaling fourteen different CDs and DVDs that he has worked on for many, many hours.  Sam’s output is small in comparison, one seven inch purple marble vinyl record with four songs.  For what Sam lacks in range he makes up for in aesthetic appeal, but that is by no way a slight of MADRONA.  The two bands musical styles are so different and their intent so varied I really wouldn’t tell you whose music I like better.  Such an act would be destructive, insensitive, and in the end pointless, you should hear them both to decide for yourself. (Shameless plug right there).

I will say I like the #a! ones for their crazy band name, a great choice in this day of internet look ups and market dynamic sensitivities.  You have to get their name wrong, because I don’t think I’m sure of what it is, or what it refers to.  This is a pure punk move, the unmarketable name, and the music they make fully delivers on the promise.  Part Black Flag, totally original, with some Circle Jerks, and even a little Rancid so the younger people will know the names I am dropping are important, “You got to” is thrashing, unafraid to be melodic, hardcore, and I couldn’t help but love it.  Sam, back in junior high, turned me on to punk rock almost singlehandedly, making bootleg cassette tapes for me I played over and over until they fell away into dust.  Now, some twenty two years later, his songs could go side by side with the classics on those early compilations and the music would flow perfectly.  For those of you who don’t do vinyl, you really should.  Even on my crappy record player the sound is immediate and nostalgic all at the same time.  Plus it’s marbled purple!  I mean, that is awesome.

MADRONA will always hold a very special place in my heart.  Matt and I were in bands together, he taught me how to play guitar for hell’s sake, so I can’t help but love everything he does.  I know one song he wrote with MADRONA is about me, a crazy ditty in thirteen time, called, yes, One Past Order.  I like to think other songs he writes are about me at times too, especially the really harsh ones about greedy pigs and out of control egos.  Such is most likely my paranoia overreaching a little, and I should be happy with one amazing song about me, but I can explain.

My illness, when I am ill, not today of course, schizophrenia in check, even convinced me that New Found Glory, a band I have no connection with and who I think exclusively writes love songs about girlfriends, also wrote a song about me.  Yes, I was convinced.  New Found Glory in addition to other minor acts like U2, Smashing Pumpkins, and  Paramour, all writing songs for me, so what is that all about?

I can tell you, when someone has schizophrenia, like I do, they break with reality, like I have.  One of the interesting things we do is lose our proper frame of reference.  All kinds of media become very confusing.  Any reference to “you”, just the plain old second person pronoun, sounds like the song writer is talking to the schizophrenic.  Even “I” the more innocuous first person pronoun, sounds like it refers to the schizophrenic during sing alongs.  He, it, we, they, yes, all of these seem personal indeed to the deluded hallucinating mind.  (Blink 182 has a song called Adam’s Song which I thought was about my friend, Chris). I have met a schizophrenic who claimed to have written all of the songs the Supremes are famous for, (songs stolen from her of course); and even one interesting lady who knew that ALL the songs on the radio were about her.

Now think about that for a second.  It’s not a problem when a love song makes you think of your love, or a party song makes you think of one time in school, but can you imagine thinking every song is about you?  Creeping Death by Metallica comes to mind, as does Lithium by Nirvana, don’t even get me started about how confusing Jets to Brazil can be for a schizophrenic emo kid, I mean it’s tragic.

When we are medicated the world falls away, and we realize how unimportant and small we are, and that can be scary too.

Fortunately for us there is a band that I think tries, and has succeeded, in sounding like a psychotic episode.  This might seem like a stock answer, but I have really given this a lot of thought, and I say Slayer, yes, crazy old Slayer, play music that sounds like I am losing my mind.  Depending on my mood I can find them very calming.

So what does this have to do with Sam’s record or MADRONA?  Not a lot.  I just love being back in the world of the sane, thinking nothing has anything to do with me ever, and living my life as if such were the case.  Sam’s stuff has little to do with me, and everything to do with him.  I celebrate his success, as I celebrate all my friends who have made my life a lot more musical.

Confusion and Mayhem

I am lucky enough to have two friends from two different periods of my life now living on two different coasts who are both amazing musicians and songwriters.  My friend Matt, from college, now in California, has written many the fine song and gained some attention with his band MADRONA, and I have a huge catalogue of his projects that I have collected over the years.  Now, like this week, my friend Sam, from junior high, now in Rhode Island, has chimed into the musical conversation with a stellar four song EP called “You got to” by his band the #a! ones.

Fortunately, none of Sam’s songs were about me.  This sounds like a presumption of major intensity but bare with me.  I have a point in here somewhere.  You see, unlike many the critic who would go the distance to argue why their friends make the best music around while claiming objectivity I will do away with such pretense and just be a fan.  But I will tell you that having song writers for friends can be confusing for the schizophrenic.

My MADRONA collection is deep.  I have work by Matt spanning ten years, totaling fourteen different CDs and DVDs that he has worked on for many, many hours.  Sam’s output is small in comparison, one seven inch purple marble vinyl record with four songs.  For what Sam lacks in range he makes up for in aesthetic appeal, but that is by no way a slight of MADRONA.  The two bands musical styles are so different and their intent so varied I really wouldn’t tell you whose music I like better.  Such an act would be destructive, insensitive, and in the end pointless, you should hear them both to decide for yourself. (Shameless plug right there).

I will say I like the #a! ones for their crazy band name, a great choice in this day of internet look ups and market dynamic sensitivities.  You have to get their name wrong, because I don’t think I’m sure of what it is, or what it refers to.  This is a pure punk move, the unmarketable name, and the music they make fully delivers on the promise.  Part Black Flag, totally original, with some Circle Jerks, and even a little Rancid so the younger people will know the names I am dropping are important, “You got to” is thrashing, unafraid to be melodic, hardcore, and I couldn’t help but love it.  Sam, back in junior high, turned me on to punk rock almost singlehandedly, making bootleg cassette tapes for me I played over and over until they fell away into dust.  Now, some twenty two years later, his songs could go side by side with the classics on those early compilations and the music would flow perfectly.  For those of you who don’t do vinyl, you really should.  Even on my crappy record player the sound is immediate and nostalgic all at the same time.  Plus it’s marbled purple!  I mean, that is awesome.

MADRONA will always hold a very special place in my heart.  Matt and I were in bands together, he taught me how to play guitar for hell’s sake, so I can’t help but love everything he does.  I know one song he wrote with MADRONA is about me, a crazy ditty in thirteen time, called, yes, One Past Order.  I like to think other songs he writes are about me at times too, especially the really harsh ones about greedy pigs and out of control egos.  Such is most likely my paranoia overreaching a little, and I should be happy with one amazing song about me, but I can explain.

My illness, when I am ill, not today of course, schizophrenia in check, even convinced me that New Found Glory, a band I have no connection with and who I think exclusively writes love songs about girlfriends, also wrote a song about me.  Yes, I was convinced.  New Found Glory in addition to other minor acts like U2, Smashing Pumpkins, and  Paramour, all writing songs for me, so what is that all about?

I can tell you, when someone has schizophrenia, like I do, they break with reality, like I have.  One of the interesting things we do is lose our proper frame of reference.  All kinds of media become very confusing.  Any reference to “you”, just the plain old second person pronoun, sounds like the song writer is talking to the schizophrenic.  Even “I” the more innocuous first person pronoun, sounds like it refers to the schizophrenic during sing alongs.  He, it, we, they, yes, all of these seem personal indeed to the deluded hallucinating mind.  (Blink 182 has a song called Adam’s Song which I thought was about my friend, Chris). I have met a schizophrenic who claimed to have written all of the songs the Supremes are famous for, (songs stolen from her of course); and even one interesting lady who knew that ALL the songs on the radio were about her.

Now think about that for a second.  It’s not a problem when a love song makes you think of your love, or a party song makes you think of one time in school, but can you imagine thinking every song is about you?  Creeping Death by Metallica comes to mind, as does Lithium by Nirvana, don’t even get me started about how confusing Jets to Brazil can be for a schizophrenic emo kid, I mean it’s tragic.

When we are medicated the world falls away, and we realize how unimportant and small we are, and that can be scary too.

Fortunately for us there is a band that I think tries, and has succeeded, in sounding like a psychotic episode.  This might seem like a stock answer, but I have really given this a lot of thought, and I say Slayer, yes, crazy old Slayer, play music that sounds like I am losing my mind.  Depending on my mood I can find them very calming.

So what does this have to do with Sam’s record or MADRONA?  Not a lot.  I just love being back in the world of the sane, thinking nothing has anything to do with me ever, and living my life as if such were the case.  Sam’s stuff has little to do with me, and everything to do with him.  I celebrate his success, as I celebrate all my friends who have made my life a lot more musical.

Easy Targets

[Warning: there is probably an error in spelling or grammar in the following blog.  I am sorry.  I tried very hard to make sure there was not but I am human, and I love commas.]

There is a great article in today’s Christian Science Monitor by Eoin O’Carroll about the math of the great assumption, er, ascension, as calculated by Harold Camping.  His Math included the number 722,499.07 days since April 1, 33 CE, rounded up to 722,500 a product of 5 x 17 x 10 squared.   All of these numbers have special meanings to Camping, but where in the bible he found this equation I do not know. (The bible is notoriously short on math, I have checked).

Harold Camping owns 66 Christian Broadcasting Channels and has convinced thousands of people with billboards and radio messages that the end of the world is today, or was, (will be?)

In response I feel like blogging that I ascended, was the only one there, convinced God to give us a second chance and came back for tacos.  This is probably an awful idea, except for the tacos.  I do love tacos.

Whoever advertises with this Camping guy should be ashamed.  I don’t blame the listeners, sure there is no reason not to learn how to read in today’s day and age, but some people can’t read.  Yes, there is an extent to which one is educated and an extent to which one educates oneself.  I’m not saying everyone has to read Jurgen Habermas or even learn how to pronounce Goethe properly, but come on, will people say that Camping prays on those who can only listen to radio?  That these people who gave away their money to Camping or spent it on billboards scaring the hell out of little children all across the country, didn’t deserve to be fleeced of every dime?

So there isn’t a lot on the radio.  And you think country music is just too liberal and communistic for your tastes.  I understand.  I recommend a wonderful collection of books on tape, CDs, and MP3 players (have you seen those, the library has some, they are cool, book and MP3 in one package, use your own headphones or headphones will be provided for you), that you can take out and listen to on your own. I cannot reach the illiterate people here, but I hope I can reach you.

The question begged is: what have I, the mad scientist, done for literacy in my life?  Very little.  I have taught English, run free book clubs at the local libraries, volunteered at the library doing necessary mundane tasks, worked for Read of America, donated books, and read to every child I have met who said they were bored and couldn’t run away fast enough to stop me.  This is why I did blog today.  To advocate that you think of something you can do to help encourage and develop literacy and go do it.

I helped a group of high school age students, possibly older, spell the word “theatre” today.  Tricky, yes.  I put it close to potato in difficulty.  Remember, Vice Presidents need help expanding their literacy too.  (Long story short for those of you a little younger than me Bush Sr.’s Vice President misspelled this one back in the day when visiting a school spelling test.  No lie.  I’m going to name names, yes I can spell Quayle both the name and the fowl quail, Quayle was the foul Quayle).

Yes. I am being smug.  Why?  Because maybe we need a little shock treatment here.  Some people can’t read.  So they turn on the radio, hear about the end of the world and believe.  Some people can’t read.  That’s not funny, but it might, in the end, spell the end of the world.

Theory and Popular Culture

Subject to private schooling during my formative years I was taught the theory of mass society when it comes to popular culture.  The idea that the masses, as the inheritors of popular production threaten the elite is totally aristocratic.  Maybe the masses threaten the old system where being a part of the elite allowed you to dictate what should be read, viewed, or thought important.  But again and again the masses want to be a part of the same elite they critique, if the elite is the group making these decisions so that they might have economic power through the selling of their art.  Whether the masses are a threat to capitalism and democracy, the very means by which they can become the elite and determine what is consumed, seems questionable.

It seems to me that mass society, if such buying trends should ever be separated from individuals linguistically, is at once interested in buying something new, and also something durable at the same time.  It is a matter of human reproduction that the young people make decisions at some point about what culture to invest in and it would seem like parents, critics and teachers are teaching a type of economics where students learn to pick out artistic products that will last, if they are practical, or ones they prefer, when they feel more emotional, or often, to like ones similar to what they render, if they are selfish.

Essentially teachers (economically repressed themselves usually), seem to influence us in buying things that we can carry with us proudly for a long time.  The threat to the teaching elite is only that the children will not purchase what the elite are selling: the books they write, or the music they produce.  The business elite has long since learned to counter this by publishing the work of the economically disadvantaged (or non-teaching elite), no matter how revolutionary the content, and selling it everywhere.  Making it available so that the economic power stays in the hands of the elite and the subversive ideas seem to be exposed as popular thereby generating the need for a counter-rebellion against the previous norm, and finally reinforcing conservative values.  The flux from rebellion to conservation is so rapid today, that I advise following the dollars, not the text of the art, to show who is truly opposed to the elite, and to who just wants to be in charge of it.

At the point of purchase some decisions are shaped by a culture industry.  What is at the book store is decided by companies.  What is available on line, free content, like this blog you are reading, might be the most dangerous work in production.  I recognize that I am sensitizing conservatives to this fact, but it’s cool, I’m a law and order type at my core.  This is either due to the aforementioned education, or  if you give me more credit, because I recognize law and order as safe.  Safety is rejected only when not appreciated. I love a peaceful, friendly society, this is why I participate here in this revolutionary context of the internet, and why you should too.

It’s a matter of power relationships, something better understood with the theory of culture industry.  These theorists think I work for the state.  I kind of do.  I don’t get paid by anyone, except anonymous donors, you can see my hand out over there with my digital “tip” jar, but I don’t want a revolution.  I don’t want to be shot at, or stolen from.  I just want varied, excellent art, and mass culture is not anathema to this anymore, in my polite conclusion.  It creates art that will last, a ton of stuff that will be forgotten, but at the end of the day I want art that reinforces public safety and that I will still want on my shelves thirty years from now.  My shelves are full of poetry, comics, and philosophy, but I am always weeding through them and eliminating what I will never read again.  I share with you this process, to influence you in buying stuff that might last on your shelves too.

I am susceptible to the notion that an elite exists dictating what’s on radio and television.  I don’t listen to radio, or watch television, but I did at one point, this is when mass decisions were made for me, I just sat there and received these decisions.  This time of received content shaped me just as my education did.

But there is another sense of the elite: the elite of the intellect, where the smart kids make the art and “smart” can be taught to a point, but good art can’t be taught in my personal experience, and smart kids make great art with poor educations all the time, while great educations are still usually purchased in our culture, thereby handed to kids who don’t appreciate them, and watch out for what they like to write.  Phew, it can be awful, irony intended.

Finally, or final for today at least, meaning right here: there’s the theory of progressive evolution.  Capitalism provides us all with an opportunity to participate in capitalism says the theory, and the weeding out process I mentioned above about my bookshelf, is totally personal.  But we all know money makes money, education can lead to smarter kids, so who are they fooling by thinking that anyone, no matter where they were born or to whom they were born can participate?  Some families value education and the arts.  Some don’t.  Some people are disabled, so they lack the capital investment ability necessary to produce many types of art.

Or is that not true?  I can’t afford to print a magazine, but I invested in a computer.  As computers become ubiquitous, these blogs will be everywhere, so is this the height of the revolution?  Me, a disabled, mentally ill guy, still having his say?  Perhaps it is.  Or maybe you are only still reading this because we share so many sensibilities thanks to our respective private (private in the sense of forced upon us, this can be public, private, or television) and personal (personal in the sense that we make our own choices about what we expose ourselves to) educations?

If I still have your attention let me leave you with a riddle: I think I spend way too much time reading about mutants and I don’t check out my Shakespeare often enough.  Or is that my repressive aristocratic education rearing its ugly head?  Why is the head reared so often ugly?  Must be some old guy's head they are talking about...