"We are committed to continuing our efforts to effect
change in the social and political arena and look
forward to creating more groundbreaking music for
our fans. In other words, we're going to keep it loud, keep
it funky and most definitely rock on!"
--Rage Against the Machine
GENTLEMEN:
In the words of this nation's fearless
leader, I feel your pain. It can't be easy, this
picking up of pieces. This moving on in the wake of loss.
This hauling of the People's burden, in which you now struggle
with just three pairs of hands.
I hope you're reading Raymond Carver stories and eating
some good warm soup, perhaps updating your photo albums
or pursuing similarly comforting activities. It must have
been a blow, when Zack De La Rocha bitched out on
Rage Against the Machine after nine years of fire-breathing
revolution and totally rad radical rap-rock. Your determination
to continue your crusade against injustice is an inspiration
to us all.
Which is why I sit here, stealing time from the Man (yeah!),
appropriating the raw materials of the wage-slave system
to reach out to you, Tender Comrades. For at this exciting
moment in the dialectical flow of history, I believe I can
help you, and you can help me, and we can mutually, cooperatively,
democratically and noncoercively labor toward (to cop from
"Holy" Joe Lieberman) a "moral reawakening"
in this country. That this "moral reawakening" and political
revolution will no doubt herald reinvigorated T-shirt and
merchandise sales is the white-sugar-free icing on the vegan
carrot cake.
I'll put it to you short and sweet: I'm your man. Pick
me. I will blow off this fishwrap gig in a Connecticut second
to become the new voice and, yes, the face of Rage Against
the Machine.
My qualifications? Well, that I am a fully professional
writer with no other skills besides dishwashing speaks for
itself. I will be an awesome lyricist. Nor do I have
any objection to belting out an old De La Rocha chestnut
from time to time. In fact, since I learned of the open
position in your lineup, I've been practicing my staccato
bellow at home. I keep yelling "Bulls on parade! Bulls on
parade!" while throwing the "intense, moody" thousand-yard
stare I've perfected. My girlfriend says I'm getting real
good.
I think I might be able to grow dreadlocks, in accordance
with the group's "look." I recently asked one of my non-white
friends (of which there are many in the tastefully multicultural
mosaic of my peer group!) to check out my hair. His verdict:
"That shit could get nappy!" I am looking forward to fulfilling
the visual phase of Our Mission and have booked a membership
at 24-Hour Fitness to work on my abs.
As far as my background goes, perhaps a brief vita
will suffice:
* Student Council Officer, Roosevelt Middle School:
A short, sharp, shocking introduction to the American political
system, which taught me that we need to "tear the fucker
down" (my words, and a possible future lyric). The cynical
compromise reached on the matter of whether a certain dance
would be "formal" or "semi-formal" sickened me. I have not
voted since, refusing to sully my revolutionary credentials
by giving quarter to the Man.
* Ideological Commissar, People's Enlightenment Front
Cell #003: As chief political officer for a small but
active campus revolutionary group, I pushed for the elevation
of Marxist-Leninist thought into a new, third and superior
stage in the struggle for proletarian leadership of the
democratic revolution. Unfortunately, our efforts came asunder
when the cell's tactical officer caught his girlfriend getting
dirty with our quartermaster. Still, we made some strides
toward crushing the revisionist and capitulationist right-opportunist
line. I also had sweet posters of Bob Marley and Che on
my dorm-room wall.
* Tour Manager, the SkaManiaks: In this capacity,
I drove the van for this acclaimed, but short-lived, ska
band's circuit of the Northwest. Toting gear and hanging
flyers in towns such as Bellingham, Corvallis and Pullman
left me with an appreciation for the difficulties of swaying
mass opinion in a neo-liberal age. I also took responsibility
for T-shirt and sticker sales, becoming intimate with a
phase of music-business operations that is clearly of utmost
importance to Rage Against the Machine.
In short, there are many reasons to sign me on to your
buccaneering crew. (Further experience, references available
on request.) Gentlemen, I know your hearts are heavy (as
is mine, in fact) over the departure of Mr. De La Rocha.
But the Struggle, like rust, never sleeps, and at this sad
time, I hearken to the words of Comrade Joe Hill:
Don't mourn, organize!
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