Snobbin: Beautiful Trash in the Pop Culture Gutter

This jaunty folk song parodies how different Americans act on this important day, particularly along party lines that never seem to change. Showing how frustrated those who vote are with those who do not, the song, prime Foremen tradition, makes fun of various sides of the political spectrum. Even though the song is always pertinent because voter turnout tends to be low, this year many of the lyrics feel particularly relevant, including "I kicked the pamphlets off the porch" and "felt distinctly disenfranchised."  Perhaps these are always perennial concerns, yet most of the characters that are asked what they did on election day tend to have done very little, so when one says that they voted, it seems surprising. That he is a "distant cousin" is telling as those closest to the speaker are too busy thinking briefly about politics before doing something odd like tossing out their Bee Gee records. These actions demonstrate the disregard that many have for vot...

Film Fifteen: Original Gangstas (1996). An over-the-top action vehicle that shows that 1970s blaxploitation heroes Fred Williamson, Pam Grier, and Jim Brown still have it. Despite the fairly pedestrian plot, of protecting their Gary, Indiana neighborhood against a street gang called the Rebels, the quick-paced action and great performances from the principle cast make it worth a look. Larry Cohen's direction is straightforward as always but has little of the guerilla filmmaking feel of his best efforts. If you want more of his gonzo style, you should look elsewhere. I suggest Bone or Black Caesar.

Reading Palookaville. Arkansas past midyear. I'm waiting for fall to begin. Far away from winter snows, Metaphorically and literally. In the enduring humidity, I turn away. I'd give anything for a cold rain or a sad autumn day. I think I just wrote lyrics to an emo song, circa 1996. Don't hold that against me. 2020 needs to end.

There were times when the nights seemed longer than days. We would walk for hours down the darkened paths, deliberate yet tentative, roaming like wild animals through the streets of the city. Deliberating, planning, and articulating what was wrong with the world. Elders would accuse us of trying to solve the world's problems. Joe's dad commended us for our forethought, yet tried to insinuate his ideas about life and how to live it into our framework. He was helpful and insightful at times. At others, we thought his observations a nuisance. What did we know? We were young, hanging out in schoolyards, behind houses, walking and walking, thinking and thinking. Young minds never at rest. The fulcrum of our existence resting on our discussions. The life experience would come later. A hard punch in the gut, better than a hard slug in the chest, it carried a force that brought me to my knees, staggered, bleeding, and ready for more. Lessons that I learned did not necessarily rest on...

When I was in High School, I was addicted to the Eels. Their combination of maudlin lyrics and E's world weary vocals really touched me. I fell in even deeper when Mark Oliver Everett slowed back down and started making records that were more similar to his first solo records, A Man Called E and Broken Toy Shop . But there was something about that first album; it rocked, while speaking particularly to my teenage frame of mind. I wanted to hide in my room all the time, cranking music that mirrored my angst. When I feel this way now, I just put Beautiful Freak on and hide for a few hours, even though my head is in a much better place. The album asks for, but also acts as shelter against the arrows and slings of the outside world. Its loud moments are always tempered by slower sections, where E sings his heart out in a primal call to arms. In "Not Ready Yet," E sings, "If I leave my room, don't you tell me to lighten up / Maybe sometime sooner or later / But I ...

One of the most obnoxious things I have ever done was on Halloween, perhaps in 1995 or 1996. I was sixteen or seventeen years old. Dressed in cheap store-bought monster masks, wearing old jeans and sneakers, my friend Bill and I prowled the streets of my hometown. We terrorized churches, children, and old ladies. We were equal opportunity in those days, relying on our innate sense of indecency. We creepy-crawled that town. Like that scene in Pink Flamingos , when the furniture ejects people because of the sheer badness of  Divine and her twisted family, we meant to be as evil as possible. We ignored the comments that we were too old to be trick or treating. It did not matter that both of us were over six feet tall and Bill weighed over two hundred pounds. We just wanted more candy. We weren't going to take no lip. Forget about the razor blades in the candy, bub. I don't want any more sweet tarts. The mission was fraught with peril. Weirdness abounded at every corner. We gri...