The Era Of The Heroless Mass

There was a time not long ago when strapping men and women stood for righteousness and truth by going against the grain. They were an outlaw breed of artists, poets, and warriors, and despite their inherent flaws towards freaky sex and potent drugs, it was in the message they delivered that won our hearts.

There were good causes in those days, much as there are now. Freedom from oppression, the individualistic ideal, the comfort of knowing you could sleep at night without the worries of foreigners slashing your throat, because your army is in their backyard. And it sounds simple to sum up these things in a few well placed sentences, but the cause is so much more than pretty words. A crude tongue like mine can't even begin to describe it. But I do know that the powers that be, want nothing to do with this cause. The business of oppression and war, is a compelling one in boardrooms and elliptical offices. And sometimes this wacky bit of land we call home seems to favor the approaches of the people in charge. A very disheartening reality.

So it was always a source of great comfort to see the outlaw standing on a podium or in front of a camera, and saying what needed to be said. Pointing out that these things weren't right, nor should they just be accepted. Granted, most of these great minds were before my time, but it's hard not to be inspired by it. Hell, even in my time, there were at least, vain attempts at heroism. There may not have been protest marches and free love, but we did have poofy perms and Hands Across America. It wasn't much, hell it wasn't even close, but it was something.

Looking into this new century, I see much of the ideal has vanished. Which I can accept, since the ideal doesn't need much more than a proper spokesperson and a few ardent fans. One can build the ideal with a bullhorn or a song, or a poem even...sort of. If you make it, and it sounds halfway decent, they will come.

What's scary is that the heroes themselves are gone. Folded deep into the sands of time. Remembered as legends of a bygone day, but losing their relevance simply because they're no longer alive. The passing of George Carlin makes it abundantly clear how few angry, well meaning people we have left. There aren't many to look up to anymore. No disavowed citizens lighting brush fires into the collective psyche, trying to stir up trouble and perspective. Nope, we've lost most of our greats, and the few we have left are getting old. Men like Chuck D and Henry Rollins, who once spawned a lot of that bygone era fury, are slowly sifting back into the shadows. Their war is over, and they now rely on charitable organizations and groups to do much of the heavy lifting these days. And who can blame them really? They've put in their dues, and they've earned the right to some peace in their later years.

But what have we left in the here and now? Where are our warriors and saviors? Those glorious twisted freaks who stand against the grain and tell it like it is? They're not here, not now. Not in this time buster.

Sports figures have gone from the superhuman layman to overpaid celebrities who favor steroids and pedophilia. Self righteous individuals in the film industry would have us believe that the only change necessary in this cruel world is to adopt orphans from other countries, then pamper them in a rich overzealous lifestyle, completely devoid of the trappings of real life. Meanwhile, the tired, poor, and huddled masses who actually live in this country continue to be ignored. In fact, if you happen to be on American soil, and possess a skin tone and accent different from the status quo, we just might have to deport you. I suppose you can stay, provided you're willing to make reservations at Guantanamo Bay for some sunshine, surf, and a good old fashioned American flogging.

In my neck of the woods over in the music industry, well intentioned souls are selling out like no tomorrow. Apparently there's this network of young people who have developed the ability to download music for free, and it's sending my sonic-creating peers into a frenzy. And they're all printing T-shirts, courting the majors, and endorsing Pepsi in an effort to keep albums flying off the shelves, all the while forgetting to actually sit down and compose decent music. Radiohead puts out a new record, and strangely enough, the album itself doesn't get nearly as much press as the fashion in which it was sold. Dark dark times my friends.

Times are plenty hard. Grown men and women with families are unable to cope with the times and being forced to move back in with mommy and daddy. Our precious dollar tattooed with our man George Washington is now a big joke in the eyes of the world. So much so, that many countries don't even feel it necessary to import their mp3 players and gaming systems our way. Work is becoming a scarce thing, But is hasn't stopped our government from abusing our trust. However, they've lost the decency to be apologetic about it. Our higher order is out there doing things we don't want, and have specifically asked them not to do. And still the voices of an entire country can somehow not pierce the white house and reach the big, Dumbo-like ears of our head honcho.

Times like this are difficult enough to face without having to face them alone. but sadly, I fear that's where we find ourselves. The spokespersons of days gone by have left us, and there is no one left to say what needs be said. No more angry sardonic wit, no more willingness to take a bullet or beating for cause, no more wacky idealism of spending a day in bed to change the world. It's just you and me, trying to survive.

Sit tight folks, this one's gonna be bumpy.