Social Anthropology

Know what I really want to go away? What’s that? George Bush? Yes, him too, but I was actually referring to the didgeridoo. Yes, that fucking drone-monster blunt substitute that every bonged-out backpacker with a hippie fetish and craving for half-assed spiritualism buys when passing through Nimbin, Australia, in search of cheap dope ( make a left at the third ‘roo; ask for Barry) and/or God. I want the didgeridoo to go far away, for it to return to the sunburned, inhospitable plains of the Australian outback, and I want all the unwashed undergrads with their big, wooly hats from whence protrudes their oversized sideburns, their tie-dye shirts, their baggy pants and their Birckenstocks who insist on playing their didgeridoos in public (ie. anywhere near me) to join their groan-sticks on their journey to that distant place. Because when I go to open mic-night somewhere, or to the park to read a book, or pass the campus to ogle girls, that’s really what I want to hear: endless, monotonous droning (granted, that’s describing a lot of genres of music right now, but I digress), sounding like the drawn-out dying groan of a hyperventilating baritone with throat cancer and a bad cold wheezing his way through a nasty bout of hay fever. Fucking bliss. What’s with this “I’m in tune with the earth” hippie shit? Do some fucking research; there’s a ton of pre-Christian pagan cults and religions in your own cultural backyard to revive; what’s wrong with worshipping the sun, for example, or a snake deity? (Frankly, if it’s good enough for Alan Moore…) What’s that? You need to assert yourself as an individual? Here’s some advice, then: Take up the fucking tuba! Nobody, I mean nobody, plays one of those anymore. How’s that for originality? But then, you can’t blather like this, can you? “Hey, look at me, I went backpacking in, like, Australia, then I got this totally huge instrument, and now I’m like, in harmony with the Earth Goddess Gaia and stuff and I can totally relate to the aboriginals, you know?” Finally: don’t refer to it as a “didj”, asshole. You appropriate somebody else’s cultural expression to suit your own needs and you can’t even afford it enough respect to refer to it by its full name? Fucking colonialist!

This piece generated my first – and so far only – piece of hatemail. The venerable mr/ms. Ilukens sent me this lovely message:

Hey Asshole
Bite my Big Yidaki

Cheers, mate!

15.02.2003 • Permalink