2009 July

Don’t ask me why but this remains my single all-time favorite Terry Pratchett line, as it graces the pages of Guards Guards (which is one of my favorite books). It is just one of those metaphors that is absolutely clear in meaning, can be visualized with absolute (if disturbing) clarity – and image that burns the synapses… and would have made you want to gouge out your brain if you weren’t laughing so loudly.

Well, actually you can ask me why because I think I just explained it.

And that is how I believe one should approach life. All in, all out, rage against the machine, try everything and experience more, learn and grow and never give up and chase your dreams… with all the stopping power of… oh you know the rest.

I have given some thought about who the gothbusters might be and what they may look like. First I pictured a couple of fundamentalist preachers from the American Midwest, but it lacked a certain something. Perhaps a couple of bearded Virginian founding-father types ?
Finally it hit me. Gothbusters would make the perfect theme for the next season of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.

GOTHBUSTERS

If there’s scary teens
in your neighborhood
Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

If they dress all weird
and it don’t look good
Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

I ain’t afraid of no goths
I ain’t afraid of no goths

If they wear black make-up
on a shiny white base
Who can ya call?
GOTHBUSTERS

Prosthetic vampire teeth
sticking outa his face ?
Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

I ain’t afraid of no goths
I ain’t afraid of no goths

Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

When the girl next door
hits puberty
Then it’s time to call
GOTHBUSTERS

I ain’t afraid of no goths
Boys do it to get girls
I ain’t afraid of no goth
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

If she wears black lace
like a freaky lady
Ya better call
GOTHBUSTERS

Lemme tell ya something
Bustin’ makes me feel good!

I ain’t afraid of no goths
I ain’t afraid of no goths

Don’t get caught alone no no

GOTHBUSTERS

When the boy next door
looks like a dockside whore
I think you better call
GOTHBUSTERS

Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

I think you better call
GOTHBUSTERS

Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

I can’t hear you
Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

Louder
GOTHBUSTERS

Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

Who can ya call?
GOTHBUSTERS

Who ya gonna call?
GOTHBUSTERS

I can’t lie anymore. My parents were ABBA fans, I was raised on the music even though I could not understand the words for most of my childhood (and when I did learn English, there was still a lot I didn’t understand, today of course I understand it all – and also exactly why I didn’t understand it then).

This band was poppy and lacked any kind of edge, but there was some kind of depth to their lyrics, and I hate them, but as Terry Pratchett keeps telling us, hate is an attractive force… I guess I have learned that I don’t loathe them.

I first rented the movie a while ago -more out of a macabre curiosity than anything else… and found to my shock that I enjoyed it… since then I’ve watched it several times… it’s a great date-night movie… but it’s so damn tacky, I mean what’s next “The Steve Hofmeyr story” ?

I can’t decide if my sudden reliking of ABBA means anything… Is just just nostalgia for my childhood ? Coupled with a fear of growing old, a fear of slowly dying (dangit stop quoting them !) ?
Does it mean I’m gay ? Actually scratch that one, I use it to seduce women so I think it’s definitely not that…
Or should I just check into rehab right now ?

You know what ? I think it’s something of nostalgia, couple with a strange appeal to the hopeless romantic hiding behind my hardcore facade, and maybe there’s nothing wrong with a little ABBA in moderation ? Provided I otherwise fill my ear canal’s with healthy music like Manson, Metallica and Manowar ? Look Ma’ I can alliterate!

Or maybe I should just admit that I have brought shame and dishonor on myself and my ancestors, and all who proudly bear the uniform of leather and the trappings of rage while screaming defiance at the world on heavy metal stages … and commit sepuku…

Much like Steve’s sexuality, the answer remains a mystery even to myself, so I think I’ll hold back on the ritual suicide until I’ve at least made up my mind. In the meantime, if you buy me a copy of Huisgenoot I will STILL beat you to death with it… May I never sink that low.