He Who Kontrols Zee Mixer Kontrols Zee OutKome

Every five years or so I give the bucktoothed bigots another chance, just in case I may have rushed to judgment (somewhere in the course of, now, a full quarter-century of relentless redneckery). I sat in at a bluegrbutt "jam." I place the term, jam, in quotes, because I feel very deeply that to the exact extent a jam is hierarchical and repressed by ignorant, parochial, subjective rules of order, it fails to meet the definition of jam. The bluegrbutt "circle jerk," on the other hand, requires the rigid adherence to tired conventions that directly prevent and controvert jam.

I did not, as usual, have a good time, because one never feels truly free under Redneck Rules, as one is never able to quite shake the feeling that whatever one is playing is not quite narrow-minded enough for at least one of the participants, who will, thus, glare at one disapprovingly, and if that's not sufficient, eventually come over and "redneck" you (with a rope, if necessary). While the sound of a bluegrbutt circle is not unpleasant, I think there are few that would describe it as either exciting or inspiring. It is merely functional - - - for those who lack any musical sense of adventure.

Redneck Rules are, of necessity, very simple, and may be readily defined as, essentially, "Anyone Not A Pig-f***ing, Redneck Moron Must Take Orders From The Nearest One Who Is." Jam really does not require a Control Freak Egomaniac In Chief, but the culturally, intellectually, and psycho-spiritually underdeveloped cling desperately to the naive (self-serving) notion that it does. While it should go without saying that anyone whose artistic significance actually warranted subservience on the part of others - - - would not be found hosting some small-time open mic, this manifests, nonetheless, as the "necessity" for a jack-butt mixer-needle, euphemistically referred to as a "host," who greedily gobbles his 30 pieces of silver for exploiting and abusing the talents of the rest of the community through the presumptuous, preemptive determination of what, when, where, and how everyone else plays, while surrepbreastiously butturing, through control of the mixer, that he looks good by making everyone else look bad, and that every musical event is not just good - - - but Pig-f***in' Good!

Now, if the host at a restaurant systematically blew snot in the face of each of the patrons for enjoying food he, himself, did not appreciate, he would, no doubt, be fired the very first night, would he not? The hosts at Folkwad-Grbutthole events, however, do so with impunity, with the full support of management, the stoop-fart participants, and all the pig-wit patrons who believe, ever so fervently, that everything really should be the same redundantly boring thing over and over again.

It boils down to a conflict between those who play music from memory versus imagination, from the intellect rather than the soul, from a "dawgmatic" adherence to some musical One True Way, as opposed to those whose sense of artistic adventure leads them to seek union with the Creative Force through an egalitarian, synergistic, co-creative process, unfettered by subjective preconception of what must occur.

The circle will, apparently, be unbroken when we are all the proverbial "bundle of sticks" - - - bound by the Ring of the Niebelungen.

Bluegrbutt Uber Alles.

"Heil Hitler, y'all!"

-- *************************************************** "Oneness is not achieved through conformity or subordination, but through the full expression of everyone's unique piece of the puzzle." --AM, the Synthesist ***************************************************