June 1, 2010

A Letter To Mr. Klosterman

Dear Chuck Klosterman,

In your book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs you included, as you know, an essay entitled Toby over Moby in which you stated (as, of course, you also know),

“Contrary to what you may have heard from Henry Rollins or/and Ian MacKaye and/or anyone else who joined a band after working in an ice cream shop, you can’t really learn much about a person based on what kind of music they happen to like. As a personality test, it doesn’t work even half the time. However, there is at least one thing you can learn: the most wretched people in the world are those who tell you they like every kind of music ‘except country.’ People who say that are boorish and pretentious at the same time. All it means is that they’ve managed to figure out the most rudimentary rule of pop sociology; they know hipsters gauge the coolness of others by their espoused taste in sound, and they know that hipsters hate modern country music. And they hate it because it speaks to normal people in a tangible, rational manner.”

I will not hold such a comment against you because you were not raised in the South  unlike me and therefore have no idea what it is like to be from the South. I will still be quite a fan of yours, though you’re in no position to lose any sleep over it if I weren’t. I’m just simply going to suggest you make a quick addendum to such a line of thinking. And here’s why…

I am the kind of person who, when asked about the music I listen to, tells you exactly what I like. Because, I, unlike a shitload of other people, have invested enough time in most things musical to know what it is that really moves me. On that list, I will not include country music. Of the nonretarded people I know and actually like from the South, few as they are, none would include country music on their list of likes and might actually be the type of person to say “just about anything but country.” Most people, as you have likely figured out, fail to spend the time on music required to figure out what they really truly like. Most of that time is spent on video games and stupid, mostly animated, television shows. I try not to hold it against people. Not everyone I know and like is required to have the kind of love I do for music…the people I sleep with or actually care for are different, but I digress.

Because I know what I like, perhaps, this statement only partially applies to me, but I’d like to speak for the small minority group of misfit toys here in the Bible Belt. The south, at least the rural parts of it like where I’m from and where I live, are not very cultured and are not, by any means, very diverse. For me, going into the local Wal-mart is akin, though not nearly as severe, to a Puerto Rican going to a local Klan rally (And yes those still happen). For the most part, my tattoos and short hair get me treated like I just stepped off the mothership. Or perhaps like my ink is actually signs of leprosy. Some days I want to run screaming through the aisles, “They’re just tattoos. It’s a form of expression. They cannot rub off on you. I’m not contagious. And yes, for fuck’s sake, they did hurt.”

When you grow up in this area, you realize a few things. First, Jesus is responsible for everything. When you get a decent parking space, thank you Jesus. When you pass a mid-term, it’s not studying and hard work, it’s Jesus. Got a promotion? That Jesus is a swell guy. Not thanking jesus for everything that ever happens to you means you are one of Satan’s minions spawned forth from the center of the earth to tear down the righteous.

Two…not liking sports means you’re a queer. By sports I mean anything that requires male on male contact or fast cars. This list includes: football, ufc, nascar. Baseball is also on the list for Georgians, at least, because the Braves sometimes do pretty well and people seem to be proud of that as if they all have something to do with those wins. I suppose they chalk it up to collective prayers to Jesus. And when the braves fail…well, damn it. We weren’t praying hard enough.

Third, country music is the best music. Ever. And listening to anything else makes you a social outcast. Unless, of course, you sometimes listen to hip hop in your 4x4 because everyone who is anyone knows that shit sounds better over the purr of a hot diesel engine.

When you grow up here, as an outcast, the first thing you equate with the people you see as your oppressors is country music. Jesus comes next and sports are generally liked no matter what. It’s that first impression of country, though, that ruins it for the lot of us down here growing up as aliens in the midst of fried chicken eating Jesus freaks which is why the addendum to your statements is necessary. We learned at early ages that listening to country made you like “them” and the people who qualified as “them” were pretty fucking embarrassing when you actually took a step outside this little geographical area. You never, ever want to be comparable to the hillbilly fucks you grew up around and were harassed by no matter what.

So, come on, Chuck….give us social outcasts a break. We don’t give a fuck what hipsters like. We just don’t want to ever be compared to the group of people that makes us embarrassed about where we’re from and who made our lives a living hell when we were young.

Thanks ahead of time.

With adoration,

J.

p.s. I’d sell my soul to have a milkshake with you anytime, motherfucker.

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about me. not really.

dear you,

i don't talk about my child or being a mom. i don't talk about my garden. i won't mention my craftiness (often) or how much i save each week with coupons. if you're looking for that sort of thing, you're in the wrong place.

instead, let's abandon the tethers of domestication for a moment and remember what it's like to laugh at vulgarity and the world at large.

xo,

j

talk amongst ourselves


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