GLEE-FUL DISDAIN

As we’re only two days from the RAPTURE there’s something I have to get off my chest. Seriously…

…okay here goes…

I hate GLEE.

There, I said it… I feel better now. There probably isn’t another more incendiary three-word comment I could make to The Facebook Community. Maybe “Yoga is Retarded” (ohhh, that’s a good one). It’s my own private version of wearing a ‘Jeter Sucks Arod
 t-shirt on a lazy Sunday at the Bronx zoo.

Why? Because I’m supposed to like GLEE. Glee is doing great things, right? It’s getting people to watch a new scripted show. It’s a least periodically funny with its biting jokes and greased-lightnin’ pace. Most of all, it is THE undisputed champion of egalitarian discipline, the bastion of tolerance we need in a world where gays are bullied, fat people are ignored, and cheerleader/jock romances go too often unrequited.

But I hate it. I hate its stupid face and its stupid songs. Here are three reasons, two of them frivolous:

1) CHARACTERS:
The characters on GLEE are some of the weakest-drawn I have ever seen on network television. I look back at the show like FRIENDS and I think, wow those characters were so shallow and predictable, the eccentric Phoebe or simple-minded Joey never breaking stride in ten seasons of stock-scenarios. But if the cast of friends existed in the world of GLEE they would be Supreme fucking Court Justices. GLEE has not one character with an iota of the believability of Matthew Perry’s Chandler, and that is a major problem, because Chandler and the rest never seemed like real people to me. Maybe that’s where I depart from many of my peers, who watch shows like FRIENDS or SEX & THE CITY and are quick to identify, quick to delineate character-types (“I’m a Miranda with a bit of Carrie when I’m drunk on bellinis”). I don’t have that tendancy, although to be honest I’m like mostly a Jack with some Sawyer thrown in for good measure.

2) SONGS:
Dreadful. Not even a little bit good. Some of them are catchy but that’s because the original songs were good. I can play a couple of bars of moonlight sonata, I can even jazz it up with a left hand riff anachronistic to Mozart, but it doesn’t mean I’ve reinvented the wheel. Watch MOULIN ROUGE and you get the idea – oh yeah, I sort of like Elton John’s YOUR SONG. So go buy an Elton John CD. Baz Luhrman at least stylizes his work, the frenetically mashed-up visual style matches the musical schizophrenia. GLEE’s plundering and reorganization is more insidious -- in a show with no style whatsoever, it makes music worse by adding nothing. It’s a creative asymptote, no matter what they do there’s nothing they can add; it’s never the original, and it will never be better.

3) THE NEUTERING, FACILE, MIND-NUMBING POLITICS (AKA the Characters)

Yes, to return to the characters for a second, we don’t just have flat characters, we have characters that I feel actual negate some of the good GLEE purports to do. The not-actually motley crew of Glee club members include the following well warn tropes: the Dumb-but-Dimpled Football Quarterback; the Histrionic Go-getter; the Punky Asian; the Fat Black Girl with Pipes ya’ll; the Lipstick Lesbian; the Dumb Blonde Cheerleader; the Inoffensive-but-Bland cheerleader (also blonde); and, of course, the Gay. This veritable Burger King Kids Club of a crew even has its own Wheels.

The point of every episode and every second of GLEE is that NO MATTER WHAT CLIQUE YOU FALL INTO, YOU’RE WORTHWHILE. That the long-sought great equalizer of high school politicking is here a glee club choir is mostly besides the point, rather that there is SOMETHING that makes everyone valuable and worthwhile, no matter who they are fucking, praying to, or modeling themselves after. Fine, great. But something about GLEE seems to betray its message, for in its cookie-cutter approach to the various archetypes of a middle American high school, we ignore how vastly different people can be, even gay people (some play sports!), even jocks (some are smart!), even cheerleaders (some are brunette!). Having a gay character, even a likeable gay character like Chris Colfer who stands by his friends and sticks up for his principles, isn’t half as brave or philosophically important as having a character who happens to be gay, but whose entire character isn’t defined by this trait. Whose sexuality is, finally, besides the point.

By wearing each characters’ dominate trait on their sleeve, GLEE positions these traits as ‘handicaps’ – handicaps that don’t matter, they argue, but handicaps indeed. We got a Jew, an idiot, and a red-head gay—but that’s okay because we’re ALL IN IT TOGETHER. WE ARE THE LITTLE RASCALS. WE ARE THE OUTCASTS. GLEE is a show for the outcasts, which revels in the fact that there are more of us out there than anyone thinks.

But by asserting its own anthemic qualities, GLEE reminds me of the latest commotion around Lady Gaga – a self-proclaimed messianic juggernaut that we’re supposed to like because they claim to speak for us at last. Casting aside Gaga, or GLEE, is then equated with casting aside parts of yourself: self-hatred, the arch-nemesis of the enlightened soul.

Look, there are worse things on Fox and in the world. Of course its message of love and acceptance is meritorious and I don’t begrudge GLEE for being at least on the right side of the political fence. Creator Ryan Murphy isn’t the devil, and for all his travail to bring the world GLEE’s important message I’m sure he’ll be raptured in a couple of days (oh wait, he’s gay…maybe not). I just hope that, in Heaven or wherever, he makes better TV than GLEE, because its creative and philosophical sins are numerous. And because commanding the National Ear is a hard trick to pull of, once you do, it becomes a responsibility to shout, a capella, a message more all-encompassing than “I’m Okay, You’re Okay.” When the conversation isn’t about acceptance but rather acknowledging the insufficiency of stereotypes, we’ll be a lot closer to where GLEE—in its good-natured attempts—wants us to be.


Oh and it’s so god-damn boring.


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THANKS FOR READING MY BLOG, SEE YOU IN HEAVEN, I’M OUT PEACE

HATE-RIOTISM: THE WAY WE WIN

Oh beautiful for spacious skies

For amber waves of grain

For Purple Mountain’s majesties

SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER IN HIS EYE!!!

***

The rockets’ red glare kept America up Sunday night, as soon-to-be-second-term President Barack Obama took to the podium at nearly 11:30 PM in the White House’s east room to make the announcement George W. Bush made hundreds of time, but only in his (probably wet) dreams: Osama is dead. Freedom wins. Count it.

Well, frankly, I’d count that a three-pointer, because there is no greater coup, no single symbolic thing, no more important victory for America’s military policy than the tracking down and killing of this wicked, wicked man. Rarely has a forty-minute military raid have had such metaphorical significance for the country that undertakes it. Whether or not Osama’s death translates to actual physical consequences for international relations or domestic policy is anyone’s guess (I’m leaning towards no), but the thing itself—as a pure symbol, as a signifier—it is as big as it gets.

AS BIG AS IT GETS.

Faced at last with a shared joy proportional to that shared loss we all experienced on in 2001, I reflect on that precious egalitarian and communal spirit that we see among Americans in the worst of times – those Blackouts real and figurative, those grossly-outsized wars that threaten more than our lives and livelihoods but our ideals and values, those darkest hours of our darkest days. We band together; we persevere. So how does America celebrate such an immense joy, such beautiful and dramatic closure to the nightmare of 9/11 and the decade-long war that followed?

Shots! Jose Cuervo. Those mini kegs of Heineken, never cold enough. Lemon Drops. Sex-of-The-Beach shooters. The Flaming Moe.

Lo, we’ve seen the Promised Land and it reeks of Milwaukee’s Best!

I do not deny that this is a time, and a cause, for celebration. But the tenor of the downright partying that has characterized both the world trade center site and midtown at large makes me, at best, uncomfortable…and, at its worst, a little ashamed. The language of this revelry is overbroad, and the posture of the revelers is, in some ways, threatening. DON’T FUCK WITH US, BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS is what this says to me. That general tone much more closely resembles in some ways the jingoism of Bush than the measured but committed tactical pressure of Obama’s military command. What’s the problem with jingoism? I guess nothing, on a theoretical level, as jingoism is just extreme patriotism with a military panache. But as wielded by Bush and his generals, jingoism was a form of jingleism – a procession of meaningless sayings: “mission accomplished,” “smoke em out,” etc. – that distracted from what was really going on: horrific acts of cowardice, staggering acts of bravery. War, very real war, with loss of limb! And life! Broken homes. The lasting effects of tedium and demoralization on young soldiers. Friends who never come home. Stories cut short.

It’s sad to me that the relief and closure Americans feel at this moment can’t be expressed more articulately than a drunken shanty delivered on the backs of off-tune bagpipes. The DAILY SHOW’s “moment of Zen” had it best: a fresh-faced twenty year old college kid at Ground Zero at 1 AM on Monday morning bellowing: “I have two finals tomorrow…but I’m not going to study because WE JUST KILLED OSAMA!!!” This kid was maybe ten when the twin towers fell; likely he doesn’t even remember a skyline that included their iconic silhouette. Yet the rage bequeathed to him by a generation flabbergasted by the events of 9/11 is certainly in tact. And, now that Osama is dead too, the jouissance of victory is his to claim as well. He's earned that.

I know I’m not alone in my dismay here. Some have pointed to Proverbs 24:17, which reads, "Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when he stumbles, do not let your heart rejoice." Some have invoked Gandhi in suggesting that utter scorn for ones enemy only creates further conflict. Yet, while it may eventually make the world blind, sometimes an eye does deserve an eye (could there have been a more perfect place for the fatal shot to have hit?). Osama deserved to die, there is no doubt, and no amount of liberal pussy-footing is going to change that fact. But just because someone deserves to die, and just because they are killed, and just because killing is – in this limited and unfortunately circumstance – justified, doesn’t mean it’s something to celebrate. At least not in that way. Instead maybe we should hold our family and friends near, recognize those that didn’t live to see the day in which, as Obama put it, “justice has been done.” Don’t cry about it, for God’s sake, but take it easy. Reflect joyfully, and be optimistic for a future where retribution isn’t the reason to cheer. Where we don't have to murder murderers, because murders aren't so.

Like probably every one of you, I’ve sat through enough enervating sermons to have wandered to the “Psalms” section of GATES OF PRAYER and noticed—with some sort of misplaced, puerile glee – all FOUR verses of “America the Beautiful” written out. And to think, our Elementary Schools teach us but one—and definitely the weakest—of these noble stanzas. The one I turn to now seems particularly apt for this moment of national celebration and memory:

O beautiful for heroes proved

In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved

And mercy more than life! 

America! America! 

May God thy gold refine

Till all success be nobleness

And every gain divine!

Nifty little verse, which stirs a prayer in my heart:

It is beautiful that our heroes—our servicemen, our municipal workers, our parents, children and friends—after nearly a decade of travail and sustained effort to fight for the cause of liberty, have proved their cause to be just. America! It is incredible to reflect on the country that is ours. May God continue to grant us pure wealth, the wealth of a life of freedom, and let our heroes’ successes be the hallmark of our unique and amazing country. But only when our success is NOBLENESS, when we are proud of both our wins and of the way we win, will we have truly—and indelibly—won.