Carl Wilson's written an excellent review of a book by a punk rocker-turned-policy advisor guy who is apparently well-known north of the border; I know I'm not making that very clear, but go check out the post, he explains it much better. It's kicked up some sort of shitstorm in which the book's author calls him gay, all because of something involving Canadian politics or something. The aforementioned shitstorm is mildly interesting in a way that sort of confirms what Wilson's saying, but it's all beside the point. I read and immensely enjoyed the review because it's ultimately less a criticism of the book itself (or the individual at hand) and more an extremely astute sketch of why folks like myself feel such ambivalence toward being "punk in spirit"--acting all punk rawk is great and all, but:

Neo-cons hated the sixties, and punks hated hippies. In many ways punk anticipated the knee-jerk, know-nothing disdain for collective input and consequence that would become standard-issue conservative politics and culture - extreme individualism and atomized democracy.

How great a leap is it from barfing on old ladies to cutting their pension cheques?

Rush Limbaugh is punk, the Oxycontin-snorting, neo-con version of Henry Rollins. The blithely rude Paris Hilton is punk, kid sister to Courtney Love; much punk music now echoes her entitled, self-involved whine.

Give it a read.
posted by Mike B. at 1:53 PM 0 comments