Who Censored Amanda Palmer?
So what brings on this confession of irrational ardour? Well, via Cheryl Morgan I found out that she's become the victim of a particularly pernicious form of panty-waist priggishness, that sort of censorship that's not so much born of strident moralistic fuckwittery as it is of craven cowardice, the censorship of those spineless squirming worms of so-called humanity who're just too chickenshit to stand their ground against their own fear of the possibility of causing a shitstorm. What it is, you see, is that a whole bunch of British radio stations are too much in a tizzy over the potential adverse reaction to her latest single, "Oasis", to risk giving it airplay. So screw the fuckers. Here's the YouTube version of this bitingly bitterly blackly humourous song with its savage satirical point that only cretins and curs would fail to get:
Palmer has a great blog entry on the whole affair actually. Go read it. It's an impassioned defence of the right of the artist to make this sort of work. I couldn't agree more with what she says. Fuck, it's the sort of thing I've probably written five thousand word blog entries on at some point or another. And to round it all off, she sums up with that three-word phrase that is my own personal mantra: fuck that shit. I mean, Christ, that phrase is so written into my core identity, it'll probably be my fucking epitaph. If I was going to blather on exhaustively in defence of satire, the freedom of comedy to tackle any subject, it's pretty much a stone cold certainty I'd end on exactly those words.
So, yeah. Now I have a proper gay "diva crush". Shit, and with all that talk of musicals in the last post too. God, I'm going to have to head down to the Village and hand myself over for resocialisation by the Homonormativity Committee, like the faggot Number Six I like to think I am just throwing in the towel. Yes, I am a disco number. No, I am not a free man.