Wednesday, March 24, 2021

From the archives of incomplete posts Pt. 2

Most Propagandhi albums end with something that brings a tear to my eye.  Whether it's Less Talk, More Rock's "Refusing to be a Man" or Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes's "Purina Hall of Fame," they're songs that just hit me in the gut.  Propagandhi's latest album ends with the song "Adventures in Zoochosis."  Similar to "Purina," which started with the sounds of someone literally beating the life out of a pig, "Zoochosis" starts with the sounds of children, overlayed with some of Donald Trump's most despicable phrases. 

"Zoochosis," mind you, is the term for the repetitive and self-damaging behavior of captive animals.  Relating this to the modern political climate, you get a song of immense defeat, with a trickle of hope at the end. 

[Edit: Another unfinished idea.  The lyrics here are incredible, and I wanted to go through them in more detail, but never got around to it.  Having spent the last decade thinking about poverty and politics, I thought it'd be fun to play with the more abstract thoughts.  But in reality the actual impetus was that I was supposed to be working on my dissertation and was using this as a distraction.]

I hold out for consensus
Give the masses the benefit of the doubt
Insist the democratic process will bear this population out
I think my only fear of death is that it may not be the end
That we may be eternal beings and must do all of this again

Oh, please lord, let no such thing be true
Though I suspect if I slink back to my enclosure
Safe and warm and adequately lit
Sufficiently plumbed and ventilated
Well, let's just say I would not shake a stick
And if pressed, I'll admit

I'm ecstatic about the enrichment programs
Implemented to extend our captive lifespans
I'm excited to see what our keepers have planned
Perhaps a bigger cage? Longer chains?
Some compelling, novel reasons to remain?

"Dad, are we gonna die?"
Yes son, both you and I
But maybe not today

Boys, I've bowed to the keeper's whip for so damn long
I think the sad truth is this enclosure
is where your old man belongs
But you, your hearts are pure

When the operant conditioners come to break you in
I'll sink my squandered teeth
You grab your little brother's hand, run like the wind
And if I'm not there, don't look back
Just go

I don't give a fuck about the enrichment programs
Implemented to extend our captive lifespans
Motherfucker gonna get a load of what I got planned

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