Is The Chaos Getting Boring Yet?
The Shock Diminution Rule:
Shock diminishes in exact ratio to repetition. —Herschel Gordon Lewis
The 3 R's:
Repetition, repetition, repetition. —Mark E. Smith, The Fall
You may have heard this before, but I am going to keep saying it until I am heard. Like a repeated punchline, at a certain point, it just gets boring. People quit listening. I repeat myself, therefore I am heard.
In this time of squirrel politics, it’s all about who has the most nuts. Some people are upset that the Fact Checkers are being retired. Why do we blindly believe that Fact Checkers actually know the “real” answer to what they are checking? Aren’t Fact Checkers just A.I.bots? Personally, I am very skeptical about the reality generated by A.I.bots.
Yes, I know they exist. They probably already out number us. Their ability to replicate “truths” has become a tsunami of alternate facts. For an example, I asked ChatGPT a question. In an effort to humanize the A.I. Truth generator, let us just call it Bob. So I asked Bob who the Judys are, the Judys being one of my bands, so I am pretty much an expert. Bob created a whole new reality, bearing little resemblance to the reality I created for myself:
Here's what I found:
*Formation and Early Years:*
The Judys formed in the late 1980s in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. The original lineup consisted of Dennis Mills (vocals, guitar), Scott Fletcher (guitar), Pete Fiend (bass), and Dan McPouso (drums).
*Musical Style:*
The Judys are known for their eclectic blend of garage rock, punk, and power pop, drawing influences from 1960s psychedelia, 1970s glam rock, and 1980s post-punk.
*Discography:*
1. "The Judys" (1990) - debut EP
2. "No No No" (1992) - full-length album
3. "Worst Luck" (1995) - EP
4. "Every Day Is the Same" (2001) - full-length album
*Lineup Changes:*
Over the years, the band underwent lineup changes, with Dennis Mills remaining the core member and driving force. Shelley Grace Preston joined as a vocalist, and Dan McPouso transitioned to lap steel and keys.
*Reunion and Recent Activities:*
After a hiatus, The Judys reformed in the 2010s with the current lineup. They have since performed at various Vancouver venues and events, including the Red Gate Arts Society show mentioned in the original post.
*Influence and Legacy:*
The Judys have been cited as an influence by several Canadian indie rock bands. Their unique sound and energetic live performances have earned them a loyal following in Vancouver's music scene.
Would you like more information on The Judys or their upcoming shows?
This robot genius did not get it right. The preceding FACTS contain fragments of truth combine with manufactured nonsense, blending information from the Texas band from the ‘80’s The Judy’s, and our band The Judys ( no apostrophe).
It is at best a jumble of words strung together.
Like a sweater knitted from the hair of the dog. Chaos!
The opposite of chaos is control. If chaos is bad, does that make control better? Do we feel safer in a controlled environment?
I am reminded of a poem from my childhood, Custard the Cowardly Dragon.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
I am looking for clues, not a nice safe cage. One word leads to another. My research takes me back to the Sixties, and a TV show called Get Smart, where the opposite of Control was Kaos.
“Would you believe…..???”
How did we get here? This strange juncture in time where fiction is truth, where lies are only facts yet to be checked. We live in a world where it doesn’t matter if what you say is true. It only matters that you say it loud enough and long enough.
This time we will build a wall and Canada will pay for it.
Many of you remember Get Smart. Smart, Maxwell Smart. Get Smart was a comedic spoof on James Bond written by Mel Brooks and Buck Henry.
“Would you believe…..” was Max’s catch phrase. His shoe was a phone. His boss was called The Chief. His partner,perhaps girlfriend, (but later, his wife) was only known as Agent 99.
Brooks described the premise for the show that they created in an October 1965 Time magazine article:
“ If a maid ever took over my house like Hazel, I'd set her hair on fire. “
“I was sick of looking at all those nice, sensible situation comedies. They were such distortions of life. If a maid ever took over my house like Hazel, I'd set her hair on fire. I wanted to do a crazy, unreal, comic-strip kind of thing about something besides a family. No one had ever done a show about an idiot before. I decided to be the first.”
This logic is similar to what Steve Bannon may have said to someone:
“No idiot has ever run for President. Can you imagine how wild that would be? We would be in an actual country, with more nukes than any other, electing an idiot, not once, but twice?”
Even Bob could not have imagined such a turn of events. We are living in interesting times. Here is a poem I started about three years ago. I am not sure it is done. It is more baked than half-baked. Call it Medium Rare. You can still see the blood on the plate, but we are far from the rodeo.
Mobster Thermidor
They call him the leader
I call him the mobster
The man on the street sees
A man eating lobster
He sits in a high chair
A wise guy with a bib
He’s shouting out orders
About the cuts to his jib
There’s perfume of anger
The man puts his pants on
He’s some kind of a monster
Who is holding us ransom.
His anger his anger
His fist pounds the table
He says what he wants
Whenever he’s able:
They stole it, they stole it
Liberal lies and deception!
I expected much more
a better reception.
Outside the crowd gathers
Orange whips the red crowd
Find your worst inner voice
Then shout it out loud.
Red trucker hats, the smell of tobacco and leathers
Stars and Stripes, Chicken strips,
Dixie flags, Tar and feathers.
They come from all over
Just to see his comb over
Much more than a wig
Or lipstick on a pig,
Better Rinse & repeat —but watch out for snakes
Swept up in the lather with other non-vertebrates.
Drain the swamp for the kids
You can watch them pet gators
To get a good look
Put on your official Duck Dynasty hip waders.
In Floridian terms:
Be yourself. Be outrageous
Ride Golf carts, wear trinkets
Of kids locked in cages.
From the streets of Chicago
To the holes of Mar-a-Lago,
They came for all reasons,
It’s Open Carry-A Go-Go!
Their hero was shot
A little nick to the ear
It could have been worse
A coffee spit take or spilling a beer
We play a game
Called Follow the Leader
“He’s more of a shouter
Less of a bleeder”
The crowd’s getting antsy
Drunken dreams of destruction
An aroma of Elon
Hints of insurrection
This strange scent so musky
Notes of money- so cloying
Bud light on tap
The big head we’re enjoying.
In Democracy’s cradle, we’re mere babes with a rattle
As vipers and losers get ready to battle
The rage it extends to all that has happened
When privilege shrinks
the bell curve will flatten.
We yearn for return to a much simpler time
everyone knew their place.
When poetry rhymed.
When is the moment the foment begins?
Fermented dementia
The Leader, he grins.
He’s Drunk on White Power, dreams of Pussy and Pence
The curtain pulls back to reveal— a white picket fence
While we fight over walls
Nothing makes sense.
Remember Obama brought drones to a wedding
Assassins in flight
Sanctioned bloodletting
But he was a Democrat…..
Still, there is oil in them sands
Roll up your sleeves
Get some blood on your hands!
Oh Fearless Leader, he elevates the worst and the least.
Brings out inside voices as he feeds the beast
You see, it’s safe once again to be rich, male, and white
Permission for Nazis to march in daylight.
The Mobster Thermidor in his Floridian hell
Feels naked and wants to crawl back in his shell
The power’s is cut off, he’s unable to speak
Unwilling to understand, unable to tweet!
How did this happen?
Who blew out the lights?
Who snuffed out his candles—
Guys, how’s your first bites?
Did he just fall asleep?
Was his face in the cake?
It’s all news to him
But the news—
It was fake.