Some alcohol was involved here. The short story is I was listening to Little Stephens Underground Garage. On one level, I will never forgive him for making his “Freak of the Week” Paolo Pasolini. Pasolini is the one who set Sade’s “120 Days of Sodom” to film, and who was apparently beaten to death for it by Italian rednecks (I can’t say I fault their judgment). I don’t forget things like that.
(Neither, by the way, do I forget or forgive Alec Baldwin and Martin Scorcese for defending the “artistic merit” of that film. No, I haven’t watched it, but I read the plot summary, and I’ve read as much of the original as I could stomach. It is quite literally sad/Sade-istic. Remember Scorcese’s cameo in Taxi Driver, where he talks about sticking a large caliber hand gun up his woman’s “pussy”? Sade certainly would have approved).
On the other side, though, listening to his music, I could not help but feel we could reach some agreements on music, and perhaps even some general agreements on society.
Me, I want freedom. I want freedom for the fuckups. I want freedom for the dissidents. I want freedom for the non-conformists, the “marchers to the beat of a different drummer”. I suppose he could not but support that.
But all of us, all of us, should support less government telling us what the fuck we need to do, and who the fuck we need to be, or else they will fuck up our lives. No mistruster of government should want more of it. How complicated is this?
I felt this. I felt the give and take, and the perhaps not-quite-agreement, but the getting-closer, and the approximating parts of agreement.
Dude: I’m a hipster, except that I fucking hate hipsters, not because they should not be free, but because they are FUCKING IDIOTS.
Clear enough?