Bite Me!

Oh Yay!  It's almost November - one of the three sweeps periods of the year.  Every show pulls out all the stops competing for the biggest audience.  Or, technically, the most number of viewers.

For reasons I cannot fathom, for talk and entertainment shows this means -  let's dust off the fat suit again and dress some unbelievably tiny woman in it and send her out into the world.  Goody!

After watching her attempt to maneuver her way through life (through the miracle of at least 25 pounds of hidden camera equipment built into the suit), we then get to listen to the once again wee woman weep her way through the narration of the video.  The taunting, the cruelty, the shame, the pity, the agony, the agony, blah, blah.  Fun!

I believe you could improve your viewership even further if you could put someone, like say, me, into the suit of a woman who weighs less than a load of wet laundry. Now, THAT would be something to see.  Magic!

Americans are getting bigger - it's a fact.  A sad one, but a truth nonetheless.  I question the wisdom then, of pissing off such a large demographic.  And yes, I mean it both figuratively as well as literally.

And what if someone, (and again, I will be the example) were able to whip my big brethren into a frenzy - we would be a force to behold!  While I can be very persuasive, I prefer to use my powers for good.  It's just lucky for you that I am lazy as well (but the jolly and light on my feet bits have held me in good stead my whole life.  It's not all doom and gloom, you know).

And so, to all of you air-brushed, impossibly thin "reporters" and "anchors" (all of whom I could probably snap like a twig just by looking at you real hard - but again, I'll be the, uh, bigger person), on behalf of a movement I prefer to call "More Of Us To Love" (or maybe, "Large & In Charge" - I don't know, can't decide) may I say:

Bite me!

Don't Forget The Glitter.

It recently occurred to me that Keith Morrison of NBC's Dateline has a propensity for making everything he says sound creepy.  He could be reading fairy tales or nursery rhymes and all you could hope was that Chris Hansen would arrive imminently with his hidden camera crew to find out just WTF was going on here.

Upon further reflection I wondered just WTF was going on here and who decided that these generally horrifying stories should be read to small children?  And just before bed?  Some ye Olde Association of Therapists?  The only "fairy tales" that had truth in advertising were those by the Brothers Grimm.  Today they seem more appropriate to be episodes of, I don't know, "Law & Order".

For example, I'm pretty sure that Child Protective Services should've been called in for both the cases of Hansel & Gretel v. Stepmother as well as the old lady who lived in a shoe with so many children she...what's that?  Oh, her name is Nadya Suleman, the shoe is a stucco house and CPS has already been called.  Alright then, good to know.

Or Bambi?  Really?  Bambi, Thumper and Flower frolicking about the forest then BOOM, "Sorry, Bambi, your mother is dead".  I can still remember becoming almost inconsolable listening to this story on the record player (the VCR/DVR of the 50's & 60's).  If I had even ever seen a deer at that point, it would've been in the Central Park Zoo but it was the principle of the thing. 

And Little Miss Muffet?  Bitch, please - really not as innocent as it seems.  Particularly to the arachnophobic child.  If this goddamn spider is so big that it actually "sits" beside her then get Chris Hansen in here STAT because the odds that the local exterminator has released a gross of pregnant spiders from Three Mile Island to drum up business are pretty high.  Especially in this economy. 

So, after enduring wolves blowing down houses (and when they can't get work blowing down the houses then they are out wilding in the forest and stalking a young girl in a red hoodie who is just trying to get to her grandma's house) or hearing about a little blonde girl who had not just one but THREE bears break into her house (and again, where are that child's parents? ) this is then generally followed by "Well then, good night, dear.  Sleep tight." 

Sleep tight my ass! Didn't you hear the story you just read to me?  Oh please, won't you read me "In Cold Blood" or "Frankenstein" tomorrow night?  My sole consolation for many of these stories was the distinct lack of wildlife on the island of Manhattan however my stress levels elevated anytime we left "town" and went to "the country". 

Quite frankly, I would like to suggest that the term "fairy tale" be retired altogether unless it can be said with the proper reverence. This is a complete misnomer anyway - at least for those of us who know that a true Fairy Tale would have better lighting, more musical numbers and witty repartee.  Oh, and glitter. AND it would win Tonys, Emmys and Oscars.  And even the straightest dudes would be heard whistling the tunes - days later.

These stories of horror should henceforth be known as "Here's a little ditty that should start you well on your way down the yellow brick road of life-long insomnia".

Let's eschew (bless me) old school fairy tales and break the chain of reading stories about cannibalism, bear, wolf and atomic-size spider attacks and general death and dying to our children.  There's plenty of time for them to find out that life isn't fair. And that there are days when that is the best that can be said. Also, they really need their sleep.

Let's read the stories with the better lighting that show that all anybody wants is to be treated kindly or that being different is to be celebrated. 

Let's teach them happy and empowering songs and not something like, say, "Ring Around the Rosie" - 'cause really, nothing says "Yay, it's great to be alive" better than a song about The Plague.  Instead, teach them to lipsync to Miss Gloria Gaynor's, "I Will Survive" or, "And I Am Telling You" and perhaps for good measure, throw in "R.E.S.P.E.C.T". There are several valuable life lessons to be learned in these songs.

Children should know that sticks and stones may indeed break their bones but that a witty comeback is  often the best revenge.  Develop an extensive vocabulary.  Words good.

Oh, and don't forget the glitter...

For What It's Worth...

This past week I was honoured to be taken as "Show & Tell" to the pre-school of my second tiniest bff, Margot.  Music is a big part of their curriculum (which I find most laudable as well as awesome!) so I went there to sing Loudon Wainwright III's, "The Swimming Song".  This is a song that I have been singing to Margot since she was a baby.

I did not however, as I had threatened on facebook two nights before, conclude the program with "Peace Out. L'il MoFos" and then, gangsta that I am, a mic-drop.  I just thanked them and said that they were the most sober audience for whom I had ever played - leaving off that this included the fact that I used to have to play at Sunday morning Mass (flipping Vatican II, damn your folk masses) as well as Mass at school all the way through middle and high schools.  Jesus wept.

Since I had behaved (which I can only imagine is a sign of aging - not sure I like it), apparently the teachers want me to come back again.  I am delighted but quite frankly my repertoire is built on a foundation of songs about drinking, life's regrets, love (both lost and unrequited), some drug-taking and often include swear words - you know, the set-list of any bar singer - it occurs that I need to have a think about what else I might be able to learn and play for them. 

I haven't quite figured that out yet since my lack of attention span then had me hop on facebook, see that one of my bro's had posted a Peter Gabriel song and then think, "I totally need some Peter Gabriel on my iPod" so, I downloaded "SO" and mentally wandered off, thinking about how finally, FINALLY, the masses are mad as hell and won't take it anymore.   Here.  In America.

Our Federal government has done fuck-all because no one will listen to anyone else and on local levels with the stripping of Union rights, making voter registration requirements almost impossible and these little GOP fiefdoms popping up all over the goddamn place - the kettle has finally whistled.

Yet, I was still on iTunes (RIP Steve Jobs - that you came up with a concept that allows me to sit at home, and think, "I really like that song, X" and then in a true act of instant gratification allows me to own that song two minutes later and be able to play it at high volume in my headphones is, to me, the best invention.  Ever!).  These protests, national and international, made me think of all of the music of my youth, songs of protest, yet songs of peace.  Songs that implored us to make our voices heard.  Anthems and hymns that made us want to in fact, get up, stand up, stand up for our rights.  Not that we are completely without that now, "Sing" by My Chemical Romance is a brilliant example.

The song that then came to my mind (and I'm afraid I don't know the path that got me there, so let's just move along) first came out when I was just beginning to play the guitar.  It was not a song I played at that time since the list of songs that I could sing convincingly, given the fact that I was 10 and growing up on the Upper East Side, was limited.  WTF did I know?  There was really no trouble I had seen, whether anyone knew it or not.  Maybe that's why that little girl who sings in that fat-old-opera-diva-lady voice creeps me out so.  My set-list was mostly The Monkees and those songs suitable for folk masses - some Jesus-y and then others like "Blowing In The Wind". 

This song, I now realize, has only three chords and so, on this cold, gray, wet Montana fall day, I am going to memorize the words so that I can play it and invite those who know it to sing along (no, you wouldn't have to know the words exactly, that's my worry) and dedicate it to those who will now take up the mantle (as we have been there, done that and the mantle is a little heavier than many of us should be reasonably expected to lift at this point).

And so, in the words of the philosopher, Stills:

I think it's time, we stop, children - what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down.

'Course I also think that Jay-Z/Alicia Keys' "Empire State of Mind" should replace "New York, New York" as the state song.

For what it's worth....