The Douchebag Bible (58 page)

household or a necklace to be worn. It’s a very

violent symbol, and if you think about how many

people died in the name of that symbol, it’s strange

to wonder why the hammer and sickle is taboo or a

swastika is taboo and the crucifix isn’t.”

Here’s a song that’s not even three minutes

long that touches upon subjects that one could

literally write entire books about. No one else in the

history of pop culture can boast such complexity. So,

if you want to get into Manson, don’t think that

you’re just attempting to get into a new band. You’re

getting into a new way or perceiving the world

around you.

But Marilyn Manson is old and his hayday is

gone. I love his new work, but its cultural

significance is negligible. And we can't get a new

Marilyn Manson until we get a new Kurt Cobain.

Cobain revitalized rock music after years of

corporate decadence. He gave birth to alternative

rock, and the next decade was a whirlwind of some

of the bleakest and smartest music to penetrate the

mainstream since the 1960’s. But just as rock in the

70’s took a backseat to meaningless Disco, rock

today has taken a backseat to the pablum of pop and

pseudo-hip-hop. Only electronic music today shows

any promise of being intriguing. Most of the rock

music coming out now is lifeless crap; a rehash of

things done better a decade ago.

We need a new Cobain to shake things up. To

usher in a new era. To make all this bland pop shit

seem as fake to everyone else as it already does to

me. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only

one.

Someone once posed to me a question: “When

you're dying, do you want to look back on your life

and only remember what a bunch of people on TV

did?”

My reply was: Well, sure. If what they did was

interesting. You have to remember when you make

statements like this that everyone only gets one life

and everyone has their choice of a few different

paths. TV, at its best, sates our curiosity about other

paths or other talents. You might be living your life

to the fullest, making it big as a painter. That doesn’t

mean you can’t enjoy an episode of House.
What if I

were a medical genius instead of an artistic one?

Maybe you don’t get the world’s most accurate

answer, but you get an answer. And it’s enjoyable to

watch.

If you think about it, your statement is really a

criticism of empathy. To ask, “Why care about the

people on TV, when you can instead focus on

yourself?” is basically an advocacy of selfishness and

isolation. Further, it’s predicated upon a false

notion—that concern for TV people is detracting

from your own life. This isn’t true. Human beings

are defined by their interactions and their ability to

perceive and interpret information. TV can enrich

lives. So can music, painting, film, literature, theater,

etc. The human condition grasps itself through

individuals

defining

themselves

via

other

individuals. The collective informs the man and the

man, in turn, informs the collective.

In short, yes, when I’m dying, I want to look

back on my life and remember what a bunch of

people on TV did. What they did told me something

about who I am.

People seem to think that our stories don't

reflect us. They think that what we are entertained

by isn't revealing of our character, but it is. Our

values, ideas, thoughts and feelings will live on more

in what we create artistically than anything else. And

we are producing garbage.

Our young children are raised on Dora The

Explorer, Barney and other shows that promote

values that we as human beings don't even seem to

adhere to. I think societies values ought to be

consistent. If we teach our children to share, be

polite and have empathy, then we as adults should

exemplify those values. If we will not (or cannot),

then we should stop teaching those values to our

children and instead teach them our true values:

greed, selfishness and cynical detachment. Our

teenagers play video games where the objective is no

more inspiring than “shoot the generic threat.” Our

adults—well, we don't really have adults anymore,

do we?

There's something I always wondered about

John Carpenter’s movie, 'The Thing' (1982): when

the thing eats you and replicates you, including your

memories, does the copy of you consciously know

that it’s the thing? This was never clear.

The obvious answer would seem to be yes,

since the creature would attack when its charade

was threatened, but I’m not so certain. What if the

attack is a wholly unconscious act? A bacterial

creature doesn't need consciousness to attack,

consume or replicate.

Imagine it: you’re sitting there with your

friends, scared shitless that one or more of them is a

monster. And you don’t have any idea that the real

you died 45 minutes ago and that you’re now just a

replica created by an alien organism as a clever

disguise.

Do you know what I thought during the recent

prequel/remake of 'The Thing?' I thought, “This is

fucking terrible.” And it's not the first time I've had

that thought sitting through a bad rehash or remake

of a good film. What is it about this time and place

that turns everything I love into shit? When did