Max Barth

From the Helena Independent Record (or, Helena IR, if you’re “local”)

“Two dogs have been killed by does in the last few weeks, prompting Helena Police Chief Troy McGee to warn residents.

“Be careful. The does are really protective of their fawns right now,” McGee said.

A dachshund was killed in its yard on the 600 block of Highland Street, he said. A 3-month-old Yorkshire terrier was stomped to death by a doe in a side yard on the 1600 block of Chestnut Street.*

McGee said it is believed the same deer that killed the Yorkie also broke a schnauzer’s jaw on the 1600 block of Walnut Street. That doe was put down by Fish, Wildlife and Parks officials, he said…..”

*Holy shit!

Govenor Mark Sanford admitted to having a mistress. FROM ARGENTINA! (partaaaaay!) (http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0609/24168.html) Interesting, because his entire staff was saying for days that he was out hiking. Or writing. If I ever have a staff, I hope they always think I’m writing a novel instead of bedding a southern (very) belle. Incredible. Honestly, it seems like the GOP is trying to shoot themselves in the foot. Or foots, as it were. Even crazy-secret-muslim-socialist Obama can keep it in his pants…you’d think moralizing church-goers could do the same. …you like that? How I snuck in a broad generalization that was slightly spiteful and demeaning?

At work I had time to think. I saw an attempt by comedian Dan Telfer (http://dantelfer.blogspot.com/) (who you should follow on Twitter) to start a trend wherein people write names for “awkward pokemon”. If more than one thing eluded you in the above paragraph, you may not appreciate what follows. Fair warning. 1.Annefrankra 2.Kadannafrank 3.Alakannefrankazam 4.SARSmander 5.Swineflutwo 6.Mr.Mustache 7.Rapedos (sorry) 8.Ahmadinejalteon 9.Berniemacnamite (has fainted!!) 10.Propeighticate And last but not least, Professor Choke. All awkward, creepy, or lame(r) names for said trademarked beasties.

I’m sorry. That wasn’t actually footage from a new Star Trek television series. My bad. The tapes must have been switched.

Interesting:

ProPublica - As print journalism goes the way of World War II veterans, investigatory journalism is hard to find. ProPublica is a great, non-profit news source that funds investigations “in the Public Interest”, then offers the articles to other papers and sources struggling for content. Pretty cool, for a noun.

Funny:

Justin Hawkins (of Darkness fame) riding a white tiger whilst shredding.*

Other Nonsense:

Lucky and Claire - A ongoing web-series about two “devastatingly talented” life partners.

And the award for worst child in the world goes to a British boy. Of course.

*The concept may be more enjoyable than watching the entire video. Feel free to simply digest the idea.

What I like about grunge, I suppose, is that it is so unabashedly paradoxical. Let me explain.

If you built a house that was functional and neat - suburban, maybe — the house would be what it was (a house, remember.) That’s it. It would work. You could enter, and do things, and maybe meet people if your guests brought friends. You could raise children and have a fireplace you never use and even throw the children IN the fireplace if you really wanted to.

But, at the end of the day, (even if that day was nothing more than day four hundred eighty-five of your twenty year prison sentence for the fiery passing of your progeny), you would still have created nothing more (or less!) than a house.

IF, however, you built that same house in a swamp where demons were not only everywhere but perpetually lauded by the townsfolk, your options would be different. Either the house would sink, or you would sink, or the house would be built and you’d be quite proud of yourself for having overcome such less-than-clear metaphorical dangers. Or you’d join the demons, and that would be that.

What would you do with/in/on/at/around the house? Well, the same as anyone else with a house - you’d bring a sofa in, have parties, stay at home and watch Law and Order Criminal Intent marathons on TNT (We know drama!), etc. You wouldn’t have children, though, because who would be crazy enough to raise kids in a swamp?

But you do. You raise children, and they are awesome and admired by their suburban friends for having such a risky, demon-filled life (remember, most see demons as “good” in this instance).

The swamp is Seattle in the early 90’s. The nice tract of grass where you build your traditional abode is anywhere else at the same time. The demons represent, faux-appropriately, hair metal. You are Mark Arm. Probably.

The rise of grunge, sticking to the metaphor, is building a house in a demon (hair-metal) filled swamp, against advice and popular opinion. Your swamp children are your musical endeavors. Like your house, they survive and appear awesome. Finally, the townsfolk catch on. A narrative arises in popular opinion wherein your swamp children (naturally influenced by the demons around them) cast those same demons off, and in doing so, become completely new and different and risky. This narrative catches fire, because people love underdogs, and people love feeling like they are carrying the flag of musical revolution. This is 1991, or ‘92, and a new wave of music (not the ‘New Wave’, of course) seems to fit the wacky rise of young people as a political force. Supposedly.

Unfortunately, this is all mostly bullshit. The biggest names in ‘grunge’ music soon realize this. They become surly in interviews, stop wearing flannel, or kill themselves (in the face!). But they keep making records. Pearl Jam’s second album, Vs., set records for first week sales that went unbeaten until N’Sync. Nirvana is on the cover of Rolling Stone. Soundgarden does things, I think.

Now, I don’t mean to say that Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Soundgarden are somehow the ‘purest’ form of grunge. In fact, they aren’t. The ‘purest’ form of grunge never happened, because existence itself is not part of the grunge ideal.

I mention the above groups because they existed, and they existed hard. Conflict, sales, personalities…everything in the human realm of experience is part of every ‘type’ of rock music. What makes grunge special is that paradox, the ultimate human experience, is part of the mix.

I have a recording of Eddie Vedder telling a crowd, “your shit is my food”. How awesome is that? Rather than “I eat shit” ala (umbrella terms, sorry) punk music or “your shit is shit” ala The Talking Heads, grunge music points the finger at the worst part of you, the listener. And then eats it anyway. How could you not like something like that?

Grunge bands sold records and hated it. (No, I don’t buy the ‘hypocrite’ story-line. I honestly believe the only thing Eddie Vedder wanted more than to sell records was to not sell records. Certainly the same was true of Kurt Cobain)

Why am I even writing about this? I’ve thought about that a lot recently these past few minutes. I guess I am writing about grunge music for the same reason people write about relationships or self-help or anything, really. Everything, when you get down to it (you never do…but when you get close, say) is a paradox. Anything that represents this sort of Universal nonsense truth is good. Grunge is and was stupid, failing right out of the gate to be fully true to any one truth. This is good, of course. The fundamental goodness of grunge, and fads like it, might be the only thing in the Universe that isn’t a paradox. Perhaps our “shit” really is our “food”. Or something.

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