my prerogative

Recently, my outlook has changed. When I was an avid baseball fan, I would often hear other fans scream things like "Yankees suck!" Well, based on fact, that is incorrect. The Yankees have won more World Series titles (way more!) that any other team in the history of American professional baseball. Coming from a city whose baseball team holds the dubious record (based on factual statistics and years of record keeping) of the most losses in professional sports history, not just baseball, I know a thing or two about "what sucks" and what does not.

I love music. I have listened to music since I was a little kid, starting with nursery rhyme records played on my little Close & Play record player. As a pre-teen, I bought 45 RPM singles (with my own money), then full albums and, of course, I recorded hits off the radio with my little cassette recorder. I made mix tapes (and later mix CDs) and went to dozens and dozens of concerts. I have always been open to all types of music, all genres and a wide variety of musicians and singers. I can honestly say I have favorites in many different styles of music. Music does not suck. Music cannot suck. Unlike baseball, where detailed records are kept, music appeal is purely subjective. Its greatness or "terribleness" cannot even be based on record sales or concert revenue, because not all music appeals to all people. Like or dislike of music is purely and solely personal opinion. O-PIN-ION! However, most people get very, very offended if you don't like a band or singer that they like. They take it personally, as if they have some sort of vested interest in a particular singer's career. (They don't.) They act as self-appointed publicists for bands that don't know they exist. It's just music. It's not a contest. There's no right or wrong answer. You can like who you wish. It's just opinion and opinions are meaningless (like the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame). So, instead of saying "That band sucks!" I will say, "I don't care for them." Obviously, there is music that I like that someone else does not like and vice-versa. And that doesn't bother me. I won't try to convince you to see things my way. You are entitled to your opinion and I am entitled to mine.

While I like a lot of music, I also dislike a lot of music. There are bands and singers I simply don't care for, but I will listen to their music if it comes on the radio. It's funny, the music I really dislike is from five specific artists. They are popular artists, very popular, as a matter of fact. Individually, they have sold millions of records. They all have rabid fans who have loved and followed their careers for decades. They have all been honored with industry awards and four of the five have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (as if that means anything). The three artists that are still with us continue to sell out shows. The two that have passed on regularly appear at the top of those "If Only I Could See Them Perform" lists that frequently pop up on social media sites.

But I don't like any of them. While I certainly understand the appeal of four of the five, they just don't do it for me. I can appreciate their impact on music in general, their songwriting ability, their musical innovation, their influence. Four out of five, that is. But, in most cases, I will instantly change the radio station within the first few notes of  hearing a song by these five particular artists.

I sure hope you read and understood the big red "WARNING" at the top of this blog post, because I am about to name names. I'm pretty sure someone will be offended.

5. Jimi Hendrix. In the immortal words of Lina Lamont: "I caaaaan't stan' 'im!" I do understand his appeal and his reverence among guitar players. But, I find Jimi Hendrix's songs to be repetitive and uninspired. Often, they come across as just a five minute session of tuning up. Sure, perhaps I would feel differently if I, myself, was a guitar player. I have seen Jimi interviewed on old TV shows and he seemed like a nice, personable, humble guy... even a little shy. But his songs are maddening to me. Aimless improvisational exercises in "Look at what I can make my guitar do!" The Jimi Hendrix Experience was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1992. His Rock and Roll Hall of Fame biography says "Jimi was arguably the greatest instrumentalist in the history of rock music." I'd argue.

4. Janis Joplin. A staple among the disciples of "classic rock," Janis Joplin was been given the same ethereal status as James Dean or Marilyn Monroe. She died young and she will forever be young and vibrant. But, Janis Joplin's voice just gets under my skin. She screams. No... she shrieks, as though in pain. Perhaps, that is part of her musical expression. Maybe it's the pain of a hard life coming out through her music. But, to me, she sounds like she hit her thumb with a hammer. Play a few seconds of "Piece of My Heart" and I will gladly confess to killing the Lindbergh baby. Again, I understand her appeal to her fans. She's the rock and roll equivalent of Billie Holliday... right? No. She's not. Billie Holiday could sing. Although I was not consulted, Janis was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995.

3. Bob Dylan. Oh my God! Did I just say I don't like Bob Dylan? Bob Dylan? Are you kidding me? Yes, yes and no, I assure you, I am not kidding. Bob Dylan wrote some great songs, I will admit. Iconic songs. Americana standards like "Blowin' in the Wind" and "Mr. Tambourine Man." But — Jesus! — what did he do with the money? What "money," you ask? The money he was given for singing lessons. I do not own a single Bob Dylan album. I do not enjoy hearing his kvetching off-key vocals coming from a radio speaker. I do not care to hear how great he is from Bob Dylan fans. And if I never hear "All Along the Watchtower" ever again in my life, I would be pretty happy. I'm okay with (most) Dylan songs sung by (most) other people. But, when I hear that nasal-y, tuneless whine and sporadic blasts from his harmonica... well I can't reach for the radio dial fast enough. In March 2020, at the beginning of a worldwide pandemic and lockdown, Dylan released a seventeen-minute ramble called "Murder Most Foul." My favorite Philadelphia radio station put the song into immediate rotation, because... hey! it was Dylan. I think I would have rather contracted COVID. Bob was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1988... no thanks to me.

2. Joni Mitchell. That's right. I can't stand Joni Mitchell. I can't stand her voice. I can't stand her tuneless, meandering delivery of her songs. I can't stand the blind allegiance of her fans singing her praises as though she had the same societal impact as Mother Teresa. Once again, I like Joni Mitchell songs by other singers. (Tim Curry's take on "Cold Blue Steel and Sweet Fire" is a particular favorite.) She sounds like she is singing a different song than what the music is playing. Seriously, Joni... pick a melody and jump in any time. For years, I have been asking die-hard Joni Mitchell fans to whistle a Joni Mitchell song. Any one. Doesn't matter. I have been met with scowls, jeers and good old fashioned "fuck you"s. But, dammit, if anyone could actually come up with a whistle-able tune. I recently revealed my dislike for Joni Mitchell to my classic rock-loving older brother. He shook his head dismissively and said, "Oh, I  disagree." I replied, "You disagree that I don't like Joni Mitchell?" Joni has been a recluse for a number of years. That's just fine with me. Despite what I think, Joni was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1997.

1. Dave Matthews. This guy is the one. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why anyone — anyone — likes Dave Matthews. Even among jam bands, his music is incredibly bland, safe and average. There is nothing original or imaginative about his music. No thought, no spirit. Just sounds from instruments... and not even good sounds. And his voice! Eeek! It's like ragged fingernails dragging slowly down a dirty blackboard. Remember that Seinfeld episode where Mary Hart's voice would send Kramer into a seizure? That's how I feel when I hear Dave Matthews' gritty yet grating growl of a voice. I cringe! I literally cringe from the sound. When I hear that someone likes Dave Matthews or even paid actual money to see a Dave Matthews concert, I wonder "Was the Grateful Dead too intense and scary for you?" or "Did you graduate from the safe, average blandness of Bon Jovi and you thought this would be cooler?" (Surprise! It is not.) And Dave Matthews singing "All Along the Watchtower?" Oh my God! Kill me now! Just kill me now. By the way, Dave Matthews was not included in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's 2022 induction nominees despite previously topping the fan ballot. Hmm... maybe I should rethink the validity of that Rock and Roll Hall of Fame thing.

May I once again direct your attention to the warning at the top of this post. Please re-read it and remember... opinions are like assholes. Only assholes have them.

Or something like that.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

happy place

Vanessa Hudgens is a popular (I guess?) singer and actress who rose to her level of fame as part of the young ensemble cast in Walt Disney's celebrated High School Musical. As a teenager, Vanessa became a staple among the prepubescent set via a generous, though well strategized, push from the mighty Disney publicity machine, much in the same way as Miley Cyrus and Britney Spears. And, like them, Vanessa has done her very best to bust out of the safe and wholesome confines of the "Disney brand." First of all, she is 31, hardly an age that would appeal to any pre-teens. But, still, she has adopted a more sultry and sophisticated persona in hopes of being recognized as an adult and taken seriously by an adult audience.

In her quest to maintain a career, she has done some good things and done some bad things — just like any one of a zillion actors trying to "make it" in a cut-throat business. She costarred in some box-office successes as well as some failures. She stayed in the positive headlines by dating her High School Musical co-star Zac Efron. She caused a bit of controversy when she carved her initials into a rock and posted the photo on her Instagram account, proudly displaying her handiwork to her nearly forty million followers. The US Forest Service wasn't among those lauding accolades on the young celebrity. The rock, you see, was in Coconino National Forest and she was ordered to pay $1000 in damages.

Well, Miss Hudgens is at it again. She posted a photo on her Instagram account for which she received a good amount of criticism. Unjust criticism, in my opinion and the opinions of some of my death-obsessed pals across the internet... and there are a lot of us. On October 10, in a time where most Hallowe'en celebrations have been stifled by the global COVID-19 pandemic, Vanessa offered a bit of the dark holiday season to her followers. She posted an artful, black & white shot from a recent photoshoot that took place in a cemetery in the storied New York burg of Sleepy Hollow. Vanessa is pictured in a clingy black dress (and accompanying face mask) cavorting among the headstones. She originally captioned the image as "my happy place." Immediately, the post was hit with a barrage of angry comments, as the internet is want to overreact to pretty much everything — including: “Why would you pose in a cemetery and post ‘happy place?’ Bruh.," “Um am I the only one who finds that disrespectful?," "Ur happy place is a cemetery?," and my personal favorite - "What's wrong with you?"

Some folks came to her rescue, noting that — at one time — a great many cemeteries were park-like places that welcomed family picnics. However, the overwhelming response was negative. Vanessa did not remove the post, though she did revise the caption to read: "Searching for that headless horseman" - a reference to Washington Irving's beloved tale that takes place in the otherwise quiet little town of Sleepy Hollow. 

I know that "the internet" is very judgmental and awfully quick to jump all over those who are deemed "objectionable." That means everyone at one time or another. But, just because something seems strange to one person, someone else could — and often does — find that same thing thoroughly enjoyable. Skydiving, getting a tattoo, eating octopus, liking the Dallas Cowboys — all of these things are both joyful and repulsive. It all depends on who you ask. Which is why I found "the internet's" initial condemnation of Vanessa Hudgens's photo so... so... offensive!

I have been visiting cemeteries for years. Years! They are fascinating, interesting and informative. In addition, I find them to be both majestic and peaceful. They are not merely storage places for the deceased. They are three-dimensional history lessons for the living. Grave markers are works of art, sometimes engraved with personal sentiment or loving memorials to the person buried beneath. Many graves are adorned with statuary, commissioned by the surviving family to honor their loved one. The grounds are usually pastoral areas of rolling lawns and shady trees, offering a tranquil retreat in which to reflect.

Or it's a cool place with dead people.

However you feel, there are a lot of people who like cemeteries. I regularly peruse the Find-a-Grave website to plot out my next cemetery field trip. I find myself craning my neck for a better look when we pass a cemetery while out running errands. Vacation destinations would often include a side trip to a nearby cemetery, much to the chagrin of my family. (They love me, so they humor me.) I belong to a private Facebook group called "The Death Hags" — a darkly humorous name for a bunch of folks who share my love of cemeteries and all things death. (Note: I have since been kicked out and banned from this group based on the feelings of a paranoid and over-zealous admin.) Before you start passing your self-righteous judgement, the group boasts eleven thousand members. So, your neighbor, your boss or even your spouse might be one of us... so watch it.

As far as Vanessa Hudgens's little jaunt through Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.... I was there in 2014. It's a beautiful spot and a local tourist attraction. It is the final resting place of some pretty notable names like Walter Chrysler, Elizabeth Arden and, of course, Washington Irving. You can visit vicariously through this link.

I am really not that familiar with Vanessa Hudgens's work and I believe I am way out of her target audience. But.... she's okay by me.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

say goodbye to hollywood

I love the "Golden Age" of Hollywood. I am a big fan of  the Turner Classic Movies cable channel. I am fascinated by the scandals of the movie business circa 1930s through 1950s. I savored each and every salacious, albeit equivocal, page of Hollywood Babylon, Ken Anger's sleazy collection of tales from Tinsel Town's seedy underbelly. And, of course, you know about my unnatural obsession with dead celebrities. So, when Mrs. Pincus and I came across Hollywood, a new limited series that just premiered on Netflix this week, we anxiously dove right in.

First blood.

In 2018, multi-award winning "triple threat" Ryan Murphy, the driving force behind the recent hits Glee and American Horror Story, signed a five-year deal with Netflix, setting a record as the most lucrative development deal in television history. Hollywood is the first entry in fulfilling his contract obligations. I have not seen an episode of Glee, but, based on what little bit I have seen and heard, I was not the target audience. As a longtime fan of the horror genre, I watched the first episode of Season Four of American Horror Story: Freak Show. I found it sprawling, unnecessarily atmospheric and tedious in its storytelling. I don't think I even finished watching the full hour. Oh wait, I did... because I remember angrily snapping off the TV when Jessica Lange began anachronistically singing David Bowie's 1971 hit "Life on Mars" during a scene set in 1952. I relented and gave the series another chance. I watched the sixth season of American Horror Story. This one concerned weird goings-on near the site of the mysterious 16th Century Roanoke Colony. I watched all ten episodes and hated every one.

Redemption.

The following year, the Fox Network touted a new limited series from the mind and pen of Ryan Murphy. This one was based on the storied rivalry between two of Hollywood's most iconic actresses — Joan Crawford and Bette Davis, and appropriately entitled Feud. Being a sucker for this type of thing, my wife and I watched... and we loved it. It was trashy and mindless with over-the-top performances from Susan Sarandon and Ryan Murphy regular Jessica Lange. When it was over, we didn't want to to end. I concluded that Ryan Murphy is the "Stephen King of TV trash." (Where as Stephen King is the "Stephen King of movie trash.") Murphy, like King, writes great "middles" of stories. He just doesn't know how to end them, so the endings seem rushed, usually falling flat on its face and well short of expectations. However, Feud worked. Maybe because this story was already written for him... with an actual ending. Murphy was able to concentrate on the tawdry details to embellish an existing story and not be bothered with how to wrap the whole thing up. It was predetermined by the source material.

We're okay now.

Admittedly, I had some trepidation about investing time in to watching Hollywood. I am not really a fan of the majority of Ryan Murphy's work. But the synopsis of Hollywood was compelling. So, we decided to give the first episode a trial viewing. If we liked it, we'd continue. Well, we liked it and continued. Actually, we plowed through all seven episodes in two consecutive evenings. We really liked it. And, frankly, what was not to like? It was trashy, garish, gaudy and — surprisingly — well acted. The actors — a great blend of veteran talent and up-and-comers — were all thoughtfully cast.  The sets and production were meticulous and stellar. The storytelling was typical intertwined "soap opera," but that's what drew us in.

On Saturday, we watched the first four installments. Afterwards, my wife and I cautiously read some comments on various social media outlets, careful to avoid any spoilers. I was surprised by the mostly negative reactions I read. So, I stopped reading, deciding to watch the remaining episodes before passing a full judgment. On Sunday, Mrs. P and I wrapped up the series. We really enjoyed it.

Hollywood is piece revisionist history. I don't think that a good portion of the viewing audience understood that. I think it was presented as a work of "historical fiction," with real historical people mixed with and interacting with made-up characters. Based on a lot of the comments that I read, the concept was not apparent enough to those who expected something different. At first, I was bothered by some historical inaccuracies, but once I "got it," I was more forgiving with the liberties that were taken.

Alongside the comments from folks who missed the concept, were angry rants from those who were going to be offended by Hollywood. Hollywood indeed had a message. Those who were offended by the manner in which the message was presented were going to be offended no matter what. They wanted to be offended. They tuned in to be offended and they were not going to be disappointed. Perhaps they also missed the concept of "revisionist history." Or perhaps they just don't want someone else speaking for them, even if they share the same ideals.

I cannot speak for anyone but myself. I enjoyed Hollywood. It was not the greatest story ever told. It was pure, mindless entertainment. It was not a documentary, nor was I expecting it to be. If the successes and failures, injustices and righteousness, highs and lows of Hollywood strike a chord with you... or if you just want to be entertained, give Hollywood a chance... and draw your own conclusion.

Don't take it from me.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

sympathy for the devil

According to a recent news story, 49-year old Swati Goyal had just boarded a flight from Florida headed to Las Vegas. Just before take-off, a male flight attendant approached Ms. Goyal to explain that "the crew" had found the T-shirt that she was wearing offensive. He continued, expounding on her options — either cover the shirt up or leave the plane. At first, Ms. Goyal thought it was a joke. Ms. Goyal's husband thought it was a joke... until they spotted "a very angry-looking female flight attendant" standing nearby, glaring at the couple with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Ms. Goyal was dumbstruck. 

The male flight attendant then asked "Do you know what 'offensive' means?"

Ms. Goyal bristled. "Yes," she began curtly, "I’m a foreign-born minority woman. I know what my T-shirt means and my T-shirt is not offensive." The flight attendant reiterated. "If you do not remove or cover up your T-shirt, you will be asked to leave this airplane." Ms. Goyal eventually complied. Her husband was wearing several layered shirts, so she borrowed one and concealed the T-shirt-in-question behind some buttons and opaque cloth. Later, she commented that she had often worn the shirt and it usually evokes chuckles.

By the way, this is the shirt she was wearing....

Swati Goyal, it seems, is a proud atheist. She is a member of the Satanic Temple, which contrary to its name, does not advocate the worship of Satan. Actually, it does not even believe in a "Satan" figure. Instead, the Satanic Temple "encourages benevolence and empathy among all people, rejects tyrannical authority and advocates practical common sense and justice." The Satanic Temple sells these shirts as ironic commentary. However, it is an actual, recognized religion... just like yours.

Ms. Goyal clearly — and rightly — saw the demands of the staff of American Airlines as discrimination based on religion. After the flight landed, Ms. Goyal contacted American Airlines' corporate headquarters to complain about the treatment she received. The customer service representative listened quietly as Ms. Goyal spelled out her humiliation. Then, the corporate rep did not apologize, but referred to their policies for passenger conduct, citing the airline’s Conditions of Carriage position on “offensive” clothing. That position is: "not allowed," although American Airlines does not specifically explain what constitutes an offensive piece of clothing. I suppose they'll just know it when they see it.

This is a perfect example of everything I dislike about religion. I believe the basics of any and all religion is: "love each other" and "everybody get along with everybody" or some variation on those simple ideas. However, the followers of any given religion usually display vicious and condescending attitudes as they try to convince members of other religions that their made-up deity is better than your made-up deity. They readily dismiss beliefs that differ from their own, finding them "offensive" despite someone else having those "offensive" beliefs as the basis for their own religion. Considering that many religious groups are the object of so much prejudice, they practice an awful lot of it themselves.

I have seen a number of T-shirts that offend me, but I would never impede on anyone's right to express their beliefs, even if they don't gel with mine. On a recent cruise, I saw a guy wearing this shirt...

I find this shirt offensive, mostly because, as many military veterans have opined, the sentiment is misplaced.... and, contrary to popular belief, not everyone is a Christian.

I find this shirt offensive, as well...

Religion is a very personal thing. I would prefer if everyone kept it on a more personal level. Good for you that you love Jesus and all he has done for you, but isn't this display of gratitude best kept between you and your "higher being?" C'mon.... a little discretion goes a long way.

The shirt I find most offensive, is this one...

Ugh! I can't stand his voice.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

Read more here: https://www.miamiherald.com/news/local/community/florida-keys/article238235064.html#storylink=cp

bigmouth strikes again

God bless Al Gore, because I love the internet. Although a lot of things have made the claim over the years, the internet truly is the greatest thing since sliced bread (providing that sliced bread is the barometer by which all great things are measured).

For someone like me, to whom being a smart-ass comes as naturally as taking air into my lungs, the internet is a very useful outlet. No longer is my sarcasm limited to those lucky few who come into personal contact with me. No, no, no! With forums like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and blogs like this one (and this one), the entire world is at my disposal.... and my mercy. And, because I am who I am, no one is exempt and nothing – nothing! – is sacred. I have a gift and I seek to share that gift with everyone.

While I do have a presence on Facebook, I really use it only as sort of a clearing house for my other social media platforms. My Facebook page is not a personal page, but rather a "fan" page. I can post things I want to share and you can comment on them, but I cannot see photos of your kittens or your kid's first loose tooth or that beautiful sandwich you are about to eat. I can't see nor comment on the fact that you're tired or you have a headache or you just ran a 10K. I just post. You just look. And that's just the way I like it.

I like Twitter a lot. I suppose that's fairly obvious, because, as of this writing, my tweets number 28,000 plus. I guess I just have a lot to say. Twitter has put a new spin on watching television, especially if you are watching a particularly bad show, like a Phillies game or a lengthy awards broadcast. "Live tweeting," as it has come to be known, while using pre-determined "hashtags" (or funny, made-up ones) is like watching and commenting with six billion of your closest friends. My philosophy is: "If you can't say something nice, then say it on Twitter."

A good portion of my tweets are responses to other tweets. I regularly offer snide, yet playful, retorts to mostly earnest posts from followers and their re-tweets. (If you don't understand some of this lingo, you should either start tweeting or stop reading right now.) I have "smart-assed" everyone from public officials and local newscasters to celebrities and even the spouses of celebrities. It's all in fun. It's not malicious. It's just me being funny... or at least giving it the old college try.

Last week, someone felt I crossed the line.

I got a DM (direct message for those of you non-Tweeters) from a Twitter follower, my friend Calluna, a former co-worker. Calluna works at an ad agency and I follow her tweets, as well as the agency's. It seems I made a comment on one of her co-worker's blogs, one that I discovered via the agency's Twitter account. My comment, evidently, made her co-worker pretty upset. She asked if I would remove it.

As a self-proclaimed and proud smart-ass, I make a lot of comments that have the potential to make people upset. The internet (especially Twitter) is a cruel, cruel place. It's a lot like high school in its viciousness and its "clique-iness." For the most part, the comments, the judgments and the insults are superficial and soon forgotten. But, you gotta grow some thick skin if you want to play with the Twitter kids.

I had to ask Calluna to direct me to the comment I had made because, as I explained, I make a lot of comments on a lot of blogs. However, after a little retracing of my electronic footsteps, I found the "offending" remark on my own and deleted it. I usually would never do something like that, but I made an exception to my normal "no apologies" policy because 1.) the comment, after re-reading it, wasn't all that funny (I've posted funnier) and 2.) I like Calluna a lot. Besides, I'm sure I made many more smart-ass comments later the same day.

So, there, Internet. Your pal Josh Pincus isn't always an asshole. I have my reasonable, "ol' softie" side.

  You can take your chances and follow me on Twitter or just "like" me on Facebook if you wanna keep your distance. You have been warned.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com