January 30, 2006

Bitch

Maybe you haven’t been following the James Frey saga. Maybe you’re sick of it, and it’s old news and you can’t believe I’m wasting valuable Toestubber real estate on such a non-story.

See, I used to inject heroin and cocaine into my veins, and now I don’t. After spending most of my twenties high, and going through a lot of ugly shit it’s not necessary to burden you fine folks with, I stopped using most dope, with the exception of caffeine, aspirin, Axert and some assorted vitamins. I happened to do it with the help of some folks in Narcotics Anonymous, but I encourage any of you with an addiction that’s making life hell to do whatever works to get out of the exhausting cycle of dependency. Really. Whatever works. I found that getting honest with myself was a good start.

The preceding unsolicited confession is only to establish that I have a dog in this hunt. I’m someone with a personal reason to be offended by a creep who writes wretchedly awful fiction and hawks it to millions by pretending he was the world’s worst junkie alcoholic outlaw badass criminal motherfucker – hunted by the authorities and persecuted by the straights. If you’ve ever been to 12-step meetings, you’ve seen this type, a lot. It’s the most popular line of bullshit among those poor pampered blowhards who just never seem to get it together, who can’t stay sober for any significant length of time – perpetual victims. Somehow, they must always one-up the last loser’s war story by painting themselves as the biggest, the baddest, the most rip-roarin’ dick-swingin’ crazy drug addict there ever was. These jackoffs never escape the romance of “livin’ the life” and impressing complete strangers with their toughy streetiness.

What Frey did was turn this banal stance into a crappy Hollywood screenplay-cum-novel where he wages bloody battle against fat, moustache’d cops and French pedophile priests, stops his addiction by force of his own superhuman will and some Eastern-style mysticism, and is befriended by cliches like the “sensitive mob boss” and the “junkie hooker with a heart o’gold” and other characters straight out of a Steven Seagal movie. He peppered it with inappropriate Capitalized Words, loads of sentence repetition and lots of crying and hugs. When his manuscript wouldn’t sell, he packaged it as a “memoir.” Oprah bought it. The rest is history.

Okay, I haven’t read his two bestselling books. I have read the finest book review ever written, and plenty of excerpts now that the scandal has broken, and lemme tell ya, this stuff rings so false, it buggers the brain. It makes Go Ask Alice look like Hubert Selby, Jr. Let’s put it into perspective: James Frey the writer is tattooed with the letters FTBSITTTD, which stands for “Fuck The Bullshit It’s Time To Throw Down.” No, I’m serious. This privileged fratboy imbecile insisted he was all about the Truth, man – on Oprah, in magazines, on his tough-guy blog (which he’s mysteriously shut down), in every public forum – and it continues to make him very rich.

Meanwhile, out here, there’s an enormously destructive Drug War still going on, with real people getting sent to real prisons. Clueless morons fan the deadly flames of prohibition in this country, every time they believe that crap like Jimmy Frey’s books accurately describes addiction or recovery therefrom. The Troy Duffy of American letters deserves every kick to the face he gets from now on. Pardon me if I can’t resist putting a boot in.

==================================================
Are the Stranglers punk? Who gives a shit? Long before I ever heard the term “Eurotrash,” I was a big fan of their thuggish image and evocative rock sound. Back then it was difficult to find so-called punk rock records in the suburbs, so I consider myself lucky to have heard ‘em, and stuck by them even after they took a turn into bizarro-world with the album Men in Black. That first album Rattus Norvegicus had a cool, creepy cover. They weren’t exactly fresh-faced kids. Jet Black, their drummer, looked like a friggin’ child molester.

Here’s one of my faves: “Bitching.” It’s the second tune offa the second LP No More Heroes, and doesn’t have the sheer menace of some of their hits, but in another way it’s emblematic of the earlier band’s bouncy, snarling pubrock with JJ’s bass growl pumping away and Dave’s agile keyboard taking us off on swift flights of fancy like a floating, glittering turtle dove. Too fucking right, squire.

The Stranglers – “Bitching”

Rick at 10:21 pm

Comments (7)

7 CommentsÈ

Please be careful how you use the name and/or image of Steven Seagal, the greatest actor that makes the greatest movies ever made by man. To compare this creepy lying cocksucker to Mr. Seagal makes me want to track you down and put two zigs on both cheeks of your life, and when I get my hands on you, God bless you. By the way (cueball) I happen to know who you are. Your friends gave you away, they’ve been talking at the bar.

Comment by champagne and little bear Ñ January 31, 2006 @ 12:19 pm
Champagne & Little Bear, I love youse.

Comment by Rick Ñ January 31, 2006 @ 1:23 pm
You are just pissed he ripped off your FTFFFF* tattoo.

*Fuck the Fucking Fuckity Fuck Fuckers.

Comment by michelle Ñ January 31, 2006 @ 2:10 pm
In every passage I’ve read, Frey sounded just like my brother. Non-povertied white douchebag, self-mythologizing as he goes, one eye spinning wildly, trying to avoid the current realities of life, and the other eye fixed on a future day when the accrued street cred will buy admirers.

After all the tattooing and debunking is over, he’s just an ordinary, attention-craving douche pouch. Not really a shocker. But now Oprah feels betrayed and disappointed and angry and zzzzzzzzz…. She’s outraged that under-scrutinized idiots are allowed to publish. WHOA! The entire world needs to change because O. (The Humanatee) was embarrassed. Rather than resolving to check things out herself and call bullshit when she feels the need, she wants dishonest people to be caught before they fool her. Imagine the meltdown when someone informs her that Dr. Phil is full of shit.

Comment by Balb Kubrox Ñ January 31, 2006 @ 4:00 pm
Steven Seagal asks that offshore arms dealer if he’s still sober. “Three years” (or something). Frey sat on the dock, wishing he could play.

Media people are so stupid about “one-percenters” they mondoize. “And now, this man will reveal the truth about his life of lies. But it really will be the truth. But they really were lies. Oh, I see. Actually, he was telling the truth then, but now he’s lying. I can’t believe it. A junkie lying, I’ve never heard of such a thing. I feel so used. Quick, turn to the State of the Union address while there’s still time.”

Bitching is my favorite Stranglers song, and for years I thought they were saying Buh Bitching (like a drunken doo wop) till I read the lyrics. I guess bar bitching maybe is a phrase in England. I liked buh bitching better.

Oh, here’s my favorite war story. “After 20 years, I was going to be killed, not by Pagans or Crips, but by myself. In one hand, I had a .45. In one hand, I had a syringe full of heroin. In one hand, I had a bible. Yes, I had three hands. Thanks for letting me share.” My other fave: “Four years ago I was a street junkie with the equivalent of a second grade education, and now I’m going to Yale Law School.” I will protect his anonymity, but he was recently appointed to the Supreme Court.

Comment by montestewart Ñ January 31, 2006 @ 10:17 pm
another drug bore out there eh? we wait here in bizarro-world for the return of our tiny flesh eating friends…

Comment by wi11iam13 Ñ February 1, 2006 @ 3:43 am
can’t get down with the James Frey, just makes me angry to hear his name. The Stranglers on the other hand may have been pub rockers masquerading as punks but they were good no matter what you call the music.

Comment by will Ñ February 2, 2006 @ 2:32 pm