The Disco Defense: I and Keith are misogynists now!

Saturday, March 15, 2008 at 10:37 AM

This commentary may well get me another load of brickbats my way, but I seem to adore playing the iconclast, always have. Well, grab a chair, light one up, and let's rehash some rhetoric.

And yes, learn something about sorry excuses...

Back when I was a mere acidic commentator to this blog, somebody figured my brand of venom might be...hmm...worth reading? Well, tastes vary, of course.

Okay, to the guns, yeppers. Seems, if you've been following the recent turn of events in politics, former VP candidate and whatever to Senator Clinton, one Geraldine Ferraro put her foot into her jaw, offering a fairly nasty thing one might call The Limbaugh-Imus Cruddy Comment. A briefy recap, better detailed by Lee, previous, she opened her mouth and offered up something as wondrous as El Oxycondo's McNabb doody, and about as lustrous as Don Imus' this-gets-you-fired-fast thingie. In other words, a cute little racist statement.

Well, Lee, and others have waxed on this, and one waxer, MSNBC anchor Keith Olbermann, in one of his acidic Special Comment pieces. As always, KO puts a brutal spin on it. And, after watching it, I fully agree with him: Senator Clinton needs to put this "drive-by" racist crap to the curb...if she's any hope of winning.

But, sadly, some Clinton supporters did not care for KO's comments whatsoever. Friends of mine, over at Democratic Underground emailed me:

Anyone who dumps on Clinton does so at the risk of being called....a misogynist.

And again, here comes the shabby, idiotic....Disco Defense.

I coined that term in 1979 to illustrate what happens when some offer up the most stupid, pallid and otherwise useless rebuttal or reply to something. Your reaction to such, as mine, is "Are you kidding me? Where did you get such a stupid idea from? And can you return it and get your money back?"

1979: Disco was finally running out of steam, it was almost over. Muscians like myself despised it, and for two valid reasons: One, musically, it was audial wallpaper, every song sounded like every other. That may well sit as a personal thing, okay, so be it, but it was the second thing that royally pissed off pickers, bass players, drummer, singers, horn blowers: Disco sent us to the unemployment office, a precursor of Raygun, as it was much cheaper to hire some clown with two turntables than hire guys armed with B3's and Marshalls. Disco cut off our weekend income, so, how you care for that when you pick Thursday, Friday and Saturday to make some bread, mmmm?

So, we hated Disco with a vengeance. It sucked. We said so. Meanwhile, the media, every radio station, even the movies...yep, Disco was it, there would be nothing better.

Yet, by the infamous 1979 Disco Demolition Night, disco was already headed for the same halls now holding hoola-hoops and gogo boots: Extinction. True, some of it evolved into trance, techno, rave, to artists like The Prodigy and The Chemical Brothers, it evolved from the pathetic days of polyester suits, stainless steel floors, and every goddamned song sounding exactly the same. The riot that took place that night, yes, was stupid, but to some, a needed bloodletting: We were sick of Travolta, the Bee Gees and lyrically-challenged KC. Enough was enough, it was time to send Disco...away.

But, some wiseass decided to throw a rock back at us: "You people are so homophobic!" Yes, that was the best defense one could offer, apparently, we hated Disco because we hated gays and lesbians.

It was one of those moments where you cannot decide on screaming, crying, or laughing like a hyena. Our venom for Disco had ZERO...to do with our gay brothers or our lesbian sisters. Shit! One killer keyboard player I ran with? Yes, he was and is gay, was glad to see Disco go: He could then get back to playing his beloved jazz. So, such a "defense"....was seen by many of us as the metaphorical equivalent of showing up on the foredeck of the Titanic with a bucket: Try again, smartass, that ain't gonna work.

Disco left and we all got to play again. They took out the stainless steel floors, cut back on the lights and we could all...country, rock, metal, jazz, hip-hop, rappers...we had the stage again. We got paid.

Thus, I kept that as my own concept: The Disco Defense...when nothing else works, let's use something really useless. It may work. Usually, it does not.

I watched, twice, KO's commentary. It does not reek of misogyny. It does reek of moral outrage. He did say, loosely, that if anyone should be offended by such crap, it should be a woman, as, after all, women have had it as tough, their civil rights still require a lot of work, but why lose sight of that and go off into Racism 101? For sake of a win?

Yet, some bloggers are on their high horse, oh yes, Keith's comments are rich with misogyny. My ass they are. It's that, yes, Keith went after a liberal for once, amazing, eh? We do notice, he does preface his comments well, and that his words come heavy...and hard: The Clinton campaign really fucked the approach this time, that's all he said.

Oh, yes and now, I, too, am a misogynist. My comments about Clinton are, according to this insane thought process, based on her being a woman, but do not detail that my spin is about lack of character. I do not criticize her based on her gender, my venom is based on her track record to date, and sadly, if it votes like a Rethug, talks like a Rethug, acts like a Rethug and has lobby monies, ties to DOD, well, obviously, misogyny is not where I aim from. Et tu, Clinton supporters and bloggers?

Absolutely insane. Ferraro had zero business stating that crap. And Keith's right, the Clinton camp should distance themselves from it in units measured better by the term Light Year. Such could prove, yes, anathema to the cause, and render the voters even more...distrusting. That we do not need.

But, please, oh, please: The next time Keith rails off at Senator Clinton, keep in mind, it does not have doodly-squat to do with her gender, but, in the stead, to do with her not acting...like a true statesperson.

Over and out.

Comments

I'm a woman, of Hillary's generation, who has long considered herself a feminist. On this, I agree with you and Keith. I guess that makes me a misogynist, too.

A massage-inist, maybe.

A meschugga-nist, probably.

But a misogynist? I doubt it.

America's little motto used to be "don't tread on me," but that long ago changed to "anything that prevents a discussion of substance."

Want to talk about the immense economic inequality? Can't; you're a Socialist.

Want to talk about why labor/employees are never represented on the Board of Directors of corporations? Can't; you're a Communist.

Want to talk about how badly America's moral and international standing is being hurt by policies of torture and unilateral military adventures? Can't; you're a deafeatist and an America-hater.

Want to talk about the dangers of rap and hip-hop culture, where even music award shows not infrequently break out into brawls and gunfire? Can't, you're a racist.

Want to talk about why Geraldine Ferraro is W R O N G? Can't; you're a misogynist.

Want to discuss why Christians feel the need to "worship" in my face, when they can worship in their own space and on their own tiome, any time they want? Can't; you're anti-Christian.

Want to talk about the long and financially bloody history of deregulation of business? Can't, you're anti-business and probably anti-capitalism/anti-prosperity.

Want to discuss the place in history of a president who started an unnecessary war that is bleeding the country of funds, soldiers, status, and sanity? Can't; you're a bush-hating sufferer of Bush Derangement Syndrome.

Want to asky why the hell our health care system has more parts to it than squares in a square mile memorial quilt, and costs more than anywhere else on the planet? Can't; you're anti-free market.

Want to ask why our own government subzidizes the shipment of decent jobs to other countries? Can't; you're anti-free trade.

Want to discuss how life in 21st century America did in you and your entire family? Can't; you're dead.

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