In true audiophobe fashion, I will choose a subject other than music that the artist makes (or, in this case, "music" that the "artist" makes). Last year on American Idol we where introduced to William Hung in the selection section; where you are roped in by the train wreck performances and talent that will battle it out for Idol status. This is the part where some girls are singled out by Paula Abdul for being "pitchy". I am not sure what pitchy means, but from context I gather it means "prettier that Paula Abdul."
William sang his heart out in true train wreck fashion. Like a small child eating bugs, he had no idea why what he was doing was wrong or why he should stop. The judges where astounded by a combination of atrocious singing and cluelessness. How could he not know that he was that bad? (If I hadn't already used my limit of one William hung simile, I would liken him to a resident of old Pompeii, standing hip deep in ashes and saying "getting cloudy, huh?")
The judges where as kind as they could manage, and a slightly hurt Hung informed them "I have no profession training." (As if private tutelage from the staff at The Peabody institute could raise him to the level of "not horrific. At least he wasn't "pitchy", not by a long shot.) The rest, as they say, is history. He became a sort of national joke. He released a record and went on tour. (By tour I am talking small venue, he opened a local car dealership. I'd have dropped in, but there is no way that I an going to waste a precious vacation day on Willie.)
I even saw a bumper sticker that said I "heart" Hung. (I say one in the Village that said "I am Hung", but I somehow doubt that it was Willie's car.) On seeing this sticker, I realized that I too heart Hung. He got up there and gave it his all, holding out way beyond the logical end and finally, against all odds, achieving something resembling his dream. This is not why I heart Hung. Becoming a parody of all you aspire to doesn't hold any currency with me (although he would be a little foolish not to cash in).
I heart hung because of an answer to a question posed to him, I think by Simon. He was asked what he did. When he replied that he was a student (civil engineering) Simon asked him how that was going. (Clearly saying "don't quit your day job." While wise advice, time has shown this to be poor advice.) Willy's reply: "As with all things, I struggle."
As will all things I struggle. If you struggle with all things, why not just go ahead and chase your dreams? It would be easy to give up rather than marching up a steep hill while your peers sail by you.
I, too, struggle with all things. Nothing comes easy with me. In my physical pursuits I train harder for less results than my fellow competitors. At work I am the least knowledgeable of all my coworkers. My only saving grace is I try harder than most. I plod along.
Keep on trucking, Willie, keep on trucking.

Johnny
moochchesdale@yahoo.com

get.kra.z@gmail.com.

The South Won't Rise Again

Greetings and salutations my fellow Yanks and Wanks. Looks like the Powers That Be haven't pulled the plug on this little trip yet, so let's keep rolling, shall we? How about a little stroll down below the Manson-Nixon line? No, no… don't close this window just yet. This won't be SO bad, I promise.

Never mind, I take that back. When it comes to life down South, all I can promise is that it's a Completely Different World. In fact, hit the bong, drop some acid, snort some K, and your mind MIGHT be in the right state in which to understand. Comfy? Now, swig some Jack Daniels, watch some NASCAR, and as soon as the K wears off and you can move, break a Budweiser bottle over the head of the closest buddy because he tried to fuck a chick you liked back in high school. NOW… you're in the right state of mind.

Do I sound biased? Maybe a little bitter? Well, you see, kids, your Sin City Savior was once a resident of a tiny town in North Carolina. Yes, the original Jersey Boy left The Shore for the Bore. Why? Because I was a crazy, mixed up kid at heart and fell in Love with an even crazier and way more mixed up woman. And I followed her down to what we came to affectionately call "Hell."

There are some things you learn when you start to move there, things you may have never learned otherwise. For example, within the first 3 months I learned that:
" Roosters don't crow at sunrise. They crow whenever the hell they feel like it. If you're lucky, they don't wake up until sunrise.
" The Ku Klux Klan is not about racism.
" Southern Pride isn't about slavery, it's about heritage; a heritage that includes slavery.
" Even gays and lesbians fearful for their lives call black people "niggers".
" Accepting the Lord Jesus Christ as your Savior entitles you to hate and repress anyone.
" The only thing worse than being black in the South is being non-Christian in the South.
" People believe "the South will rise again" but can't tell you what that actually means.
" Premarital sex is a sin, but teenage pregnancy is a blessing.
" Child/spouse abuse is so rampant, there are billboards reminding people that Stovetops are only for cooking and Irons are only for clothes.

Now, living on the Left Coast after living in the Top and Bottom of the Right One, I have some serious perspective - Maybe it wasn't Them, maybe it was Us. Maybe being an irreverent, vulgar, Taoist, Polyamorist, Artist Freak with a formerly-Jewish, arguably Insane, Bisexual Witch for a wife had SOMETHING to do with it. Then again, we were Happy and Comfortable living in New Jersey. The South really IS just a different world.
It's not that neighbors aren't nosy and don't gossip in Jersey. They just don't care. No one up North really gives a shit what time you came home on Sunday morning, what and who you were doing the night before, and if you went to Church afterwards. It's just one of the many differences between the Blue and Gray; the differences in our values.

It's nice to be back in a place where people aren't all the same and nobody knows my Real name. It's nice to know that there's no chance in H-E-Double Fried Mozzarella Sticks that my boss will ever say to me "So I heard you went out Saturday night and didn't get home until 10:30 yesterday morning" (as was once told to my Now Ex-Wife). Even if I was at a strip club here until 5am with a few coworkers and my hotter-than-a-stripper girlfriend, my boss would never find out. Up North, we value privacy. Down South, gossip is currency. It's just another difference in values.

Living in the South, I heard a lot about "Family Values", the belief that Family comes first, to an extreme degree. Well, Family and Jesus, really. If your family has a different Savior, is still waiting for Him, or just doesn't have one, your Values don't count. But I digress.

See, if Cindy Loo Who gets knocked up by her boyfriend one Saturday night while they're parked out behind the local Winn-Dixie, it doesn't matter if she's only 16, or if he's only 15. The Family comes first. So that child is going to have a child with a child for a father. It doesn't matter if she has to leave school (the same school that wouldn't teach her about contraception, only abstinence). It doesn't matter if Grandma has to raise the baby for her, or that Grandma's 30ish and was looking forward to getting back to her own life in two years. It doesn't matter if the man-boy who did the buggering never wants to see Cindy again, or her child. Family comes first, even if that doesn't mean HIS family.

But so what, right? Should we care?

No, we shouldn't.

And that's the point, isn't it? That might be the biggest difference in our Values. Up on the Eastern Seaboard we don't care who you are, what you want from Life, or if it stacks up against what we want (unless you have a bigger TV than us). Just keep your dog and your Beliefs in your own back yard. And clean up the Shit both leave behind before it starts to stink.

Forget the accents, forget the NASCAR races, forget the blatant bigotry. The line drawn between us is drawn by what we believe in, what we strive for, and what we believe our neighbors should strive for. That's a much deeper, much less humorous line. But that's the line that makes the North and South two completely different worlds. It's like comparing apples and DVDs.

So, I'm going to throw in one last I Don't Care… I don't care if the South DOES rise again. In fact, the entertainment of it all would eclipse ANYTHING going on here in Vegas… even the full puppet nudity.

… Kra-Z is an Artist. 'Nuff said. He lives and plays in Las Vegas, but his heart is still on stage at the Jersey Shore. See his work @

artgonekra-z.com …