18 August, 2009

Huey Lewis: Unwitting Agent of Satan

You know how this entire time we've been discussing how this computer replacement will be a bit of an upgrade, right? A few days ago we had a little chart that compared something alright to something optimum.1 I'm thinking it's time to do another.
You see, yesterday, Gladstone's Hate By Numbers took on Nancy Grace2, and that's when it struck me: The hairdresser looks a lot like Nancy Grace.
Let's take a gander:
That's right, I was fucking Nancy Grace.
Now, you see, it's not that I'm going anywhere with this. When you're using a computer borrowed from your ex-girlfriend, you can't exactly go Googling your ex-fuck-puppet, so it follows that what I can do until the new 'puter is purchased is limited. Take this weekend, for example; normally when A Prairie Home Companion comes on, I do what anybody would do: I turn it off and blast the fuck out of some music because generally on Sunday, I have nothing else to do except crack the third beer and after the third beer, I do not need to hear the "News From Lake Wobegon". Come to think about it, I never need to hear the "News From Lake Wobegon". But you get what I'm saying, right? Three beers, zero beers, thirty beers, it doesn't matter how many beers you pour down my gullet, I'm going the fuck out of my way to avoid all things Prairie Home Companion.
I think that's not actually the point I was after, but... where was I going again? That's right, I was going on about how I can't "go" anywhere on a borrowed computer, but I have a particular need to compare my former fuck-puppet to Nancy Grace, which requires a good deal of NSFW (or, in this instance, Not Safe For A Borrowed Computer) materials and research and what not, and I don't know how comfortable I am with George seeing the words "fuck puppet", "lake wobegon", and "huey lewis and the news 'heart and soul'" auto-completing in her Google search bar. It's going to be awkward enough trying to explain half the shit that auto-completes in her address bar. The address bar I can explain, though; you know, a link or something, on a whim I was curious... The search bar, though, means that while the computer was in my charge, I actively and deliberately sought out definitions and imagery related to the term "wetmare".
Normally, like seventy five percent of the time, I'd say the weird shit I find myself fixated upon is found by accident. I go looking for... well, let's say, "Heart and Soul" by Huey Lewis and the News. We got that? We're all on the same page? Got it? Good.
So there's some obscure fun fact or urban legend or something about this song, right? Let's say, and this is completely not true, I'm just making this up right now as an example, the song is about a Satanic cannibal woman. Right? Like the one line about being up at two o' clock in the morning or something, like Huey can't sleep and he's watching the news and there's this bit about this woman who's shit-house rat insane who was eating people's hearts to give their souls to Satan's army, right? So Huey writes a song about it.
Now, I have to go to, let's say Snopes. Snopes says this is all bullshit, but cites a few documented incidents that have lead to the invention of this story. Let's say one of these documented incidents has to do with actual folklore regarding cannibalism, which would probably go so far as to include the Wendigo, and we know where that one goes.3 (Thus proving that's there's really no escaping from laughing gas porn, so you may as well enjoy the ride while it lasts.) But was that too easy? I mean, the laughing gas porn thing is real and I'm trying to just make some bullshit up.
So, let's go with Satan because, you know, fuck it.
Say there's a Satan thing on Snopes that relates to, let's say WWI Russia. Say it's some sort of cult or something that had some real high profile members like the Hellfire Club. Say that this cult comprised an infantry unit during WWI. Say these infantry units had these wild-assed orgies because nothing says "ritual" or "black mass" or "scare the shit out of squares" like people fucking with uninhibited abandon.
Suppose that during these alleged orgies, there would have been, in Petrograd, a notable ballerina. I mean, the highest members of society were the members of the club, right? And what was more entertaining in WWI Russia than the ballet? You dig me?
So the ballerina gets knocked up by an infantryman (just doesn't know which one; I mean, it is an orgy) and from there she has a daughter. After the war and the Soviet Union emerges from the rubble that once was Russia, the ballerina emigrates to England with her daughter.
The daughter, having some serious daddy issues and being taught sexual freedom anyhow, slowly becomes involved in pornography, right? It starts off slow, she does some modeling in her nighties for a local brewer's advertisements at the age of twelve (so around 1929 and 1930) by telling the ad company she's fourteen and the ad company tells the world she's sixteen. Known publicly four years older than what she really is, she gets involved in skin mags by the time she's fourteen, touted as "The Blossom of Sussex" for the fact that she has a suspiciously flat chest that is only now starting to develop breast buds.
This isn't kosher with the ballerina or the society because they don't want the attention the daughter brings or to be associated with "the child whore" and by 1935, a shadow organization branches off of the club comprised mostly of assassins who were the children of the infantry, right? One of these assassins is contacted by the ballerina.
Meanwhile, the ballerina knows she's being watched carefully and the brewery gig, with its money and protection and publicity, is long gone. What she has are a bunch of sleazy back alley photographers who sell their pictures in sleazy back alley shops. Her photos, though, capture the attention of a young Yankee GI, who tracks her down, woos her, convinces her to come to America, where they wed and have five children, three of whom die of some mysterious illness within weeks of birth.
Four years later, World War II breaks out and the Yankee GI is, oddly enough, not called into active duty. After months of fearing his departure, the Blossom of Sussex begins to calm down but also begins to ask questions. The Yankee GI, though, is called to depart for Britain, but not by the US or British military. Instead, he kills the Blossom of Sussex. He was one of the club's assassins.
What nobody knew, though, was that the three children that died died because of bad genes, or genes that were too close together, anyway. The Yankee GI was the son of the Russian infantryman that knocked up the ballerina. Yeah, he had married and murdered his half-sister.
But nobody would know this for years until the genealogy was researched using DNA samples and yada-yada-yada.
The two surviving children return with their father to the British Isles where they reside temporarily in Ireland. A few years after WWII, the family returns to the States and by 1949, one of the Yankee GI's sons knocks up a Polish refugee at the age of fifteen and leaves the club to marry the refugee with the blessing of the club's tribunal as the Yankee GI vouches for his son. His grandson is born in 1950.
His other son, however, remains a member of the fold.
This other son grows to have a conservative influence in the club and is a recognizable force. He soon attains a lower seat on the tribunal. Fearful of the direction the club is taking, the progressive-minded members who pushed to abolish the assassin group leave the club as this other son begins slowly usurping other tribunal members over the course of the next thirty years.
In this time, as membership dwindles, this other son has a daughter who poses an even more conservative presence in the club. Taking a cue from her father, she translates the sacred texts literally and begins to scoff at the idea of conducting things "symbolically". Rumors begin circulating about this daughter's "secret meetings" where the "old ways" like the orgies are still practiced. A more frightening rumor, though, which this other son seeks to shut down at every turn, is that his daughter also practices what is called the "ancient ways" or the "forgotten ways": ritual sacrifice and cannibalism. Though this is always suspected, it is never proven.
What is known, however, is this other son's "behind the scenes" support of his nephew's career. Ensuring ever so secretly that everything followed a particular successful trajectory.
Except for one thing that was completely unforeseeable: His daughter and her off-shoot cult are caught and the media sensationalizes the arrest and will sensationalize the ensuing trial. The daughter has been sacrificing and eating the descendants of the WWI Russian infantry in order to rejoin their souls in Hell to build up Satan's army for the ensuing apocalypse.
Across town, her cousin (who she never met), the nephew is experiencing a bit of insomnia, his job keeps him out all hours anyhow, though, and he's catching up on the rerun of the nightly news when he sees the story. Inspired, he sits down and strums out first inversion F♯m and Em triads and acknowledges the time: two o'clock in the morning.
The record label receives the demo and gives it a listen and says the subject matter is too disturbing, or at least that's what they've been told to say after their "consulting firm" listened to it. The song's lyrics are tweaked only slightly to transform it into more of a boy-girl love song. The chorus indeed changes from "She'll take your heart and soul" to "She's heart and soul", the monosyllabic "heart" coming in early and being stretched out to fit the rhythm. The record the song appears on, Sports, is the last mainstream hit record and only Number 1 record Huey Lewis and the News will release, as the other son, who now leads the club, feels that any further success enjoyed by his nephew, Huey, will only threaten to expose the club to the rest of the world.

You see? You see how gripped you were? This is how I get sucked into weird shit, all the time.

No comments:

Post a Comment

 
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.