Showing posts with label das racist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label das racist. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Golden Corral v. Whites: Separate but Cheaper
Golden Corral would like you to believe that black people will jump out of a moving car for a buffet. Meanwhile their pretentious white "friends" are oblivious to the siren song of unlimited mash potatoes. Before you yell "das racist!" consider the following: the black people are given seats at the rear of the vehicle, not being asked to stand. They are well dressed, indicating respect for the ceremonious 10$ entree. Most affirming of all, they will brave any hardship, whether pavement or heart disease, to ensure a financially prudent date night. There's nothing racist about whites and blacks eating at separate restaurants as long as one of them is cheaper.
Wait, it's totally racist, without any commentary on that racism. And it is deliberate.
You can imagine the director asking the black male to slouch more in his seat. It's impossible to imagine this kind of advertisement being storyboarded without someone's 2012 racial consciousness piping up. Is it satire, or should we conclude that this actually fits the expectations of Golden Corral's black guests?
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Being Das Racist: Harder Than We Think?
Here are three recent youtube videos showing the type of performance Das Racist is delivering on their Relax tour. If you love background rappers coming in on the last phrase of the line, each. and. every. line, then you love it. If you love people yelling into the device which amplifies their voice, then you love it. If you love weed so much you're smoking it during the performance, you love it. Don't be jealous reader, You can play from the comfort of your chair! In the following vidoes count the number of visible drinks on stage. Or, if you can count over a hundred, count the number of times lyrics become unintelligible messes from group delivery.
Doing some back-of-envelope calculations, it would seem they were drunk and high as shit. In an interlude between songs D. Brown complained about finishing Lukutis's drink, and in the middle of a song Victor (Kool AD) went backstage to procure another one. Also, Heems eyes looked like this the entire show:
.
Throughout the ages, many artists have performed better while under the influence. Does Das Racist perform better under the influence? While I'm not looking for them to do cartwheels through rings of fire or anything, if the performances you just saw were improved by depressants I'm aghast at the thought of them performingduring the day not high or drunk.
The least auditorily offensive of those three embeds is the last. I wish I could have gone to a show there instead of the one I did last night at the Branx/Rotture. I also wish last night wasn't the first time I'd been suckered. I went to the same show in April and it sucked too. We've got a saying in Oregon, I'm sure you have it in Williamsberg, goes like "Fool me once, shame on...you. ...Fuck Das Racist at the Branx/Rotture." This is hardly a scientific sample so I'm unsure how to weight the blame between their effortless performances or the improper audio setup. It sounded like "blahalhalowwwwohfaahmfahf ahflomorr woahoahwoahw" for 4 hours.
The music started a half hour late both times, though that's only relevant because it meant I spent an extra half hour standing alone by myself against a wall. For everyone in the underage area it meant more time to pass around the gatorade bottle'o'wonder, and for everyone in the bar area more time to drink PBR ironically. There are three possible explanations for the delays: Das Racist either shows up late to the venue, needs more time to get plastered--like the audience, or they are just being fashionable. All three = dedication.
The most insulting part of the performance was the continual sounding of what I can only call the "dj horn," heard at 1:36 in the following clip. Unbelievably, repeatedly sounding it at 100x amplification at the end of every song was an improvement, because in April an eagle screech was used that hurt even worse. Without any justification, this sonic "fuck you" was used intermittently during the songs as well as at their start and end. This is what my experience felt like.
Perhaps I have shitty cell phone ears. I wish I could have enjoyed any part of the show except for D. Brown's a capella, which is unfortunately about ejaculating in a person's eye. Your mileage may vary. It appears to me that they are reluctant stars riding the hipster train around the country and enjoying the chance to party every night. If so, then why are their lyrics so thoughtful, and why is their first studio release so polished? Relax is catchy and smart, irreverent and insightful. How come their performances are so bad?
I think the joke's on me. "Give us all your money." Is it satire?
Doing some back-of-envelope calculations, it would seem they were drunk and high as shit. In an interlude between songs D. Brown complained about finishing Lukutis's drink, and in the middle of a song Victor (Kool AD) went backstage to procure another one. Also, Heems eyes looked like this the entire show:
. Throughout the ages, many artists have performed better while under the influence. Does Das Racist perform better under the influence? While I'm not looking for them to do cartwheels through rings of fire or anything, if the performances you just saw were improved by depressants I'm aghast at the thought of them performing
The least auditorily offensive of those three embeds is the last. I wish I could have gone to a show there instead of the one I did last night at the Branx/Rotture. I also wish last night wasn't the first time I'd been suckered. I went to the same show in April and it sucked too. We've got a saying in Oregon, I'm sure you have it in Williamsberg, goes like "Fool me once, shame on...you. ...Fuck Das Racist at the Branx/Rotture." This is hardly a scientific sample so I'm unsure how to weight the blame between their effortless performances or the improper audio setup. It sounded like "blahalhalowwwwohfaahmfahf ahflomorr woahoahwoahw" for 4 hours.
The music started a half hour late both times, though that's only relevant because it meant I spent an extra half hour standing alone by myself against a wall. For everyone in the underage area it meant more time to pass around the gatorade bottle'o'wonder, and for everyone in the bar area more time to drink PBR ironically. There are three possible explanations for the delays: Das Racist either shows up late to the venue, needs more time to get plastered--like the audience, or they are just being fashionable. All three = dedication.
The most insulting part of the performance was the continual sounding of what I can only call the "dj horn," heard at 1:36 in the following clip. Unbelievably, repeatedly sounding it at 100x amplification at the end of every song was an improvement, because in April an eagle screech was used that hurt even worse. Without any justification, this sonic "fuck you" was used intermittently during the songs as well as at their start and end. This is what my experience felt like.
Perhaps I have shitty cell phone ears. I wish I could have enjoyed any part of the show except for D. Brown's a capella, which is unfortunately about ejaculating in a person's eye. Your mileage may vary. It appears to me that they are reluctant stars riding the hipster train around the country and enjoying the chance to party every night. If so, then why are their lyrics so thoughtful, and why is their first studio release so polished? Relax is catchy and smart, irreverent and insightful. How come their performances are so bad?
I think the joke's on me. "Give us all your money." Is it satire?
Thursday, October 27, 2011
What is Satire?blog
Satire makes us think while making us laugh. It is both a form of criticism and a form of humor. It is a time-honored rhetorical device which disarms a person long enough to conceive of a thing in a new way. It's like reverse psychology, where the desired thought process is achieved via negation, e.g., “This blog is awesome.” Lets take a stroll through satire as it applies to Satire?blog, shall we?
Satire is distinguished by the attempt to appear serious. A clown makes no attempt to be serious, and therefore is not satire (nor trusted). The less sincere the attempt, the more satire skews into lampoon. This sexual harassment short exploits sensitivity training hilariously. But it only superficially requires us to examine our attitudes towards sensitivity training because the docile responses from employees belie its seriousness. If they reacted more realistically the short would probably function better as a critique of overwrought sensitivity training videos. And it probably would be less funny.
Contrast this with Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal. Swift's attempt to appear serious is more genuine. His proposition to alleviate the burden of poverty by eating children is as severely inappropriate as suggesting to rub huge cocks together at the water cooler, but instead of letting the shock diminish he continues to press, developing his argument and leaving few traces that he is anything but sincere. Understanding on face value that Swift cannot be right, readers are forced to read closely in order to counter that, no, babies should not be eaten to alleviate poverty, at which point Swift has achieved his desired effect. Every reader will have a better conception of the dire poverty the Irish face and how greatly that desperation contrasts their own lives. A Modest Proposal is not that funny.
My amateur analysis* so far is suggesting that the satire spectrum is anchored by lampoon like the sexual harassment short on one end, and criticism like A Modest Proposal on the other, with the former being funnier and less persuasive than the later. But the The Onion News Network shows this dichotomy to be false since it is consistently funnier than sexual harassment and lays it's subjects even more bare than did Swift the privileged classes.
In any case, we are not interested in identifying deliberate satire because unbridled self-awareness, running roughshod over the last vestiges of innocence and authenticity, rend almost every portrayal a satire these days. I mean, can you even say freedom without a smirk or scare quotes anymore? Thanks media.
On this blog satire takes on a different dimension of meaning. When we ask “is it satire?” we seek not to classify yes or no, but just to genuinely wonder aloud. What the fuck is this? Is it satire? It sure looks like satire. In message board terminology, this would be the situation where you're unsure whether someone is sincere or trolling. Not sure if serious.... It's the disbelief when you detect a fart shortly after someone has left the room. At Satire?blog we will thrive in those moments.
Ask yourself, “if this is not satire of [some thing], then what would a satire of [that thing] look like?” If the answer is [still that thing] then you have an clear case of ambiguity. For example:
What the fuck is this? Is it real? Did they really write a song about Taco Bell and Pizza Hut? Is it supposed to be a satire of hip hop? If someone did satirize the mindless, weed-addled stupidity sloth of contemporary hip hop acts and/or their fans, wouldn't this be the song he produced?
In a cynical, meta, post-modern world, speculating on intent is the last means with which we can enjoy artistic creation. It's a head cocked-sideways. It's the ineffable feeling of “...quoi?” Won't you celebrate the ineffable with me?
P.S. I had to write that entire post without using the word irony. Its reclamation by hipsters caused a recession in the meaning market worse than the 1995 crash/release of Jagged Little Pill.
*reverse psychology
Satire is distinguished by the attempt to appear serious. A clown makes no attempt to be serious, and therefore is not satire (nor trusted). The less sincere the attempt, the more satire skews into lampoon. This sexual harassment short exploits sensitivity training hilariously. But it only superficially requires us to examine our attitudes towards sensitivity training because the docile responses from employees belie its seriousness. If they reacted more realistically the short would probably function better as a critique of overwrought sensitivity training videos. And it probably would be less funny.
Contrast this with Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal. Swift's attempt to appear serious is more genuine. His proposition to alleviate the burden of poverty by eating children is as severely inappropriate as suggesting to rub huge cocks together at the water cooler, but instead of letting the shock diminish he continues to press, developing his argument and leaving few traces that he is anything but sincere. Understanding on face value that Swift cannot be right, readers are forced to read closely in order to counter that, no, babies should not be eaten to alleviate poverty, at which point Swift has achieved his desired effect. Every reader will have a better conception of the dire poverty the Irish face and how greatly that desperation contrasts their own lives. A Modest Proposal is not that funny.
My amateur analysis* so far is suggesting that the satire spectrum is anchored by lampoon like the sexual harassment short on one end, and criticism like A Modest Proposal on the other, with the former being funnier and less persuasive than the later. But the The Onion News Network shows this dichotomy to be false since it is consistently funnier than sexual harassment and lays it's subjects even more bare than did Swift the privileged classes.
In any case, we are not interested in identifying deliberate satire because unbridled self-awareness, running roughshod over the last vestiges of innocence and authenticity, rend almost every portrayal a satire these days. I mean, can you even say freedom without a smirk or scare quotes anymore? Thanks media.
On this blog satire takes on a different dimension of meaning. When we ask “is it satire?” we seek not to classify yes or no, but just to genuinely wonder aloud. What the fuck is this? Is it satire? It sure looks like satire. In message board terminology, this would be the situation where you're unsure whether someone is sincere or trolling. Not sure if serious.... It's the disbelief when you detect a fart shortly after someone has left the room. At Satire?blog we will thrive in those moments.
Ask yourself, “if this is not satire of [some thing], then what would a satire of [that thing] look like?” If the answer is [still that thing] then you have an clear case of ambiguity. For example:
What the fuck is this? Is it real? Did they really write a song about Taco Bell and Pizza Hut? Is it supposed to be a satire of hip hop? If someone did satirize the mindless, weed-addled stupidity sloth of contemporary hip hop acts and/or their fans, wouldn't this be the song he produced?
In a cynical, meta, post-modern world, speculating on intent is the last means with which we can enjoy artistic creation. It's a head cocked-sideways. It's the ineffable feeling of “...quoi?” Won't you celebrate the ineffable with me?
P.S. I had to write that entire post without using the word irony. Its reclamation by hipsters caused a recession in the meaning market worse than the 1995 crash/release of Jagged Little Pill.
*reverse psychology
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)