Wonkette
This is pretty much like The Empire Strikes Back, in reverse, or maybe the beltway story of Oedipus, with robots: American poet/singer David Berman has announced (on a Drag City message board) that he’s shutting down his Silver Jews musical operation, and will perhaps do “muckraking,” and also is not very happy about the work of his apparent father, Rick Berman, the infamous Food Industry lobbyist.
Here’s Random Rules, from the actual classic, American Water. Buy these records. And Berman (Jr.), you can muckrake over here at Wonkette, although you’re not going to get rich in this fringe pursuit, either.
NOOOOOOOOO
(eh, last two albums sucked)
Jesus Christ there are 20 wingnuts among those links. As a drunk person, can Tony the Tiger just come back and fuck with us again or something? And if David Berman is here, I would like to formally challenge him to a duel. That is, a duel of banjos, to the death. HE’S A WITCH.
Jim Newell: This is why you people can’t have nice things.
Jim Newell: Actually, most of his music sucked. But then American Water is literally the greatest album ever made. Still, may he have more success in his new endeavors than in his suicide by crack attempt.
THAT is some serious father-son estrangement.
Why is everyone else awake at this hour? You kids should all be in bed–leave the staying up late and being cranky on the Internets to us olds. We’re fucking doomed as it is.
And the only thing more revolting than hipster irony is hipster sincerity. NOTE COMMON DENOMINATOR THERE.
Tanglewood Numbers is the shit. There is plenty to love in LM, LS. Dave & Cassie are the Duke & Duchess of Literary Post-Slack-Core. The truth about Dave & Dickie can be found in the following ditty, among others:
Old San Francisco, San Francisco B.C.
I lived with my true love and she lived with me.
“Romance is the douche of the bourgeoisie”
Was the very first thing she imparted to me
We had sarcastic hair, we used lewd pseudonyms
We got a lot of stares on the street back then.
Since her dad, a local barber, had been beaten to death
She had become a vocal martyr in the vegan press
The cops had failed, they couldn’t catch a bus
They were looking for a male with a bad hair cut
Enter tumbleweed, exit love and our affaire d’amour
Was set on self-destruct.
She said “you don’t make enough to provide for me.”
I said “what about the stuff that we quote believe?”
She said “I left that on the sands of history
I’ve found a new man to take care of me
He dresses for success and emergency
And he moves a lot of concrete on the QVC.”
Little, asian, deadly, like a cobra in the shade
Sat in the midst of the smoke that he made
His name was Mr. Games and he owned the place
It was a lonely bar and grill in the Lower Haight
He had a jeweler’s hands and a blurry face
He knew I needed a chance so he gave me a break.
“If I hire you now, can you start today?
I got a high-rise job down by the bay.
Just a couple of rocks and some firearms
There’s not many locks and just one alarm
My step-son Gene will pick you up and drive
Try to be his friend, he’s got a friendly side.”
Doll-house lightning and the next thing I knew
We were back at our point of rendezvous.
I was in the possession of burglary tools
Children’s fur coats and diamonds and jewels
Gene’s talking about insignificant shit
Just like crooks in the movies when they do that bit.
He said the power of metal will never be harnessed.
I thought the wages of metal should be heavily garnished.
We were waiting for his dad to meet us there
Gene took off his hat and I noticed his hair
It was neatly trimmed but a patch was bare
I knew it wasn’t the wave, it was human error.
Before I knew what I said, I said “killer cut.”
I watched him silently putting out a cigarette butt.
Then he came at me with some fist cuisine
I had to duck aside and that was bad for Gene
Cause when he went by me he tripped and fell
Through the glass coffee table at the Wong hotel.
Right there and then Mr. Games walked in
With my ex-true love on his gamy limb.
So her dad’s killer’s dad was her new beau
And Games had a wife, whatta you know?
She got real real quiet till we chucked the kid
Then she went her way and I went his.
Old San Francisco, San Francisco B.C.
——
Decode on your own dime, ya fusty shlubs.
Ken, what are you doing posting at 2:30 in the morning? Does Sarah make you work ALL NIGHT! We should probably talk about unionizing.
I hope this talk doesn’t get us all fired!
IceCreamEmpress: How old is old, creamy person? I’m 43 and being unemployed/househusband (yay John Lennon!} for going on a decade tend to avoid the sun by sleeping. Which is why my comments seem to be the last ones for so many threads.
No one reads my comments unless I get up early. I haz a sad.
Since then, Berman has toured regularly with Silver Jews, the live incarnation of which features his wife, Cassie.
Gentlemen, I give you the true reason for the breakup: never let the wives/girlfriends into the band. It’s the end of the group. (Just ask the guys from Fleetwood Mac. They’d still be together if they hadn’t let Christie McVeigh and Stevie Nicks into the band).
Serolf Divad: Don’t even let them become manager. That pretty much destroyed Spinal Tap.
Sad to hear, but I guess the time has come. I am excited for whatever his next project will be. Berman is on of my favorite writers.
Pop Socket: And they’ll demand more dubly.
I don’t know anything about food industry lobbying, but I know I can never forgive Rick Berman for Star Trek: Insurrection.
“Silver Jews”? Isn’t that a Christmas Carol?
If he’s the guy that allows whatever addictive stuff they put in Smartfood White Cheddar Popcorn to stay legal, then I’m on his side.
I asked a painter why the roads are colored black
he said it’s because people leave and no highway can bring them back
Anyone who says his life is riddled with Ibsenism is a douchenozzle. No matter if he sings a tune or no.
I’d hit it.
Ugh. Which is worse, the lyrics or the half-hearted scrawny-ass shimmies? Not sexy, either. NEXT.
Jim Newell: Woah, hey, woah. Tanglewood Numbers was fantastic. Maybe not American Water fantastic, but pretty close.
Jim Newell: Y’think? Really? I’m kinda starting to love Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea. But I’m a sucker for drug-addled folk what sing in a monotone.
I do not hate the ways of this belly dancing Silver Jews fan
Who?
sometimes a pony gets depressed
hobospacejungle, I’m 44. Psssht, you’re a baby. You probably don’t even remember the chocolate-peanut butter Space Food Sticks.
The Writing in Question:
My Father, My Attack Dog
Now that the Joos are over I can tell you my gravest secret.
Worse than suicide, worse than crack addiction:
My father.
You might be surprised to know he is famous, for terrible reasons.
My father is a despicable man. My father is a sort of human molestor.
An exploiter. A scoundrel. A world historical motherfucking son of a bitch. (sorry grandma)
You can read about him here.
http://www.bermanexposed.org
My life is so wierd. It’s allegorical to the nth. My father went to college at Transylvania University.
You see what I’m saying.
A couple of years ago I demanded he stop his work. Close down his company or I would sever our relationship.
He refused. He has just gotten worse. More evil. More powerful. We’ve been “estranged” for over three years.
Even as a child I disliked him. We were opposites. I wanted to read. He wanted to play games.
He is a union buster.
When I got out of college I joined the Teamsters (the guards were union organized at the Whitney).
I went off to hide in art and academia.
I fled through this art portal for twenty years. In the mean time my Dad started a very very bad
company called Berman and Company.
He props up fast food/soda/factory farming/childhood obesity and diabetes/drunk driving/secondhand smoke.
He attacks animal lovers, ecologists, civil action attorneys, scientists, dieticians, doctors, teachers.
His clients include everyone from the makers of Agent Orange to the Tanning Salon Owners of America.
He helped ensure the minimum wage did not move a penny from 1997-2007!
The worst part for me as a writer is what he does with the english language.
Though vicious he is a doltish thinker
and his spurious editorials rely on doublethink and always with the Lashon Hara.
As I studied Judaism over the years, the shame and the shanda,
grew almost too much. my heart was constantly on fire for justice. I could find no relief.
This winter I decided that the SJs were too small of a force to ever come close to
undoing a millionth of all the harm he has caused. To you and everyone you know.
Literally, if you eat food or have a job, he is reaching you.
I’ve always hid this terrible shame from you, the fan. The SJs have always stood autonomous and clear.
Hopefully it won’t contaminate your feelings about the work.
My life has been riddled with Ibsenism. In a way I am the son of a demon come to make good the damage.
Previously I thought, through songs and poems and drawings I could find and build a refuge away from his world.
But there is the matter of Justice.
And i’ll tell you it’s not just a metaphor. The desire for it actually burns.
It hurts.
There needs to be something more. I’ll see what that might be.
DCB
if you want to know what evil Herr Attackdog is currently up to look here:
http://www.alternet.org/workplace/120426/ad_wars:_‘dr._evil’_vs._unions_over_employee_free_choice_act/)
Well this ruined my day. And he was finally getting so much better at performing live!
last thing i expected to read on this blog and that is not a bad thing <3 <3
Oh, dear–that manifesto sounds like someone needs some/more/better psych meds.
I mean, I agree that his father is an unprincipled shitheel, and if he were my father I wouldn’t speak to him either, but that manifesto is not the writing of a neurologically well person.
That’s pretty sad, actually. I feel bad for him.
May he become a crusader for justice!
Most. Unenthusiastic. Belly-dance whore. Evar.
Jim Newell:
1. You’re wrong, Jim Newell (Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea is awesome).
2. WTF? Does this have something to do with Joaquin Phoenix rapping?
3. Sad face.
Why isn’t this post more about how much of a douchenozzlebanging raft of trash Dickie Berman is? Isn’t THAT the whole DC tie-in? I don’t know if it’s productive to blame one’s bad daddy for one’s failings and flailings, but the larger point for the New Amurrrrica is we have Dickel Berman in our sights, let’s GET ‘IM!!!
IceCreamEmpress: “chocolate-peanut butter Space Food Sticks”
I bow to your experience, old man. Never heard of ‘em. Though I have fond memories of “you put your chocolate in my peanut butter.”
Peanut butter pussy. Smooth, brown and easy to spread.
IceCreamEmpress:
I mean, I agree that his father is an unprincipled shitheel, and if he were my father I wouldn’t speak to him either, but that manifesto is not the writing of a neurologically well person.
You mean psychiatrically? What, did the multiple addictions and suicide attempt tip you off?
There’s banally unprincipled businesspeople and then there’s sociopaths. Rick Berman sounds like a sociopath (is there any client he wouldn’t take? Wouldn’t he work for NAMBLA if he thought he could get away with it?), and sociopaths often drive everyone around them to despair.
dannygutters: sometimes a pony,
sometimes a pony,
sometimes a pony gets depressed
I feel that these are among the greatest lyrics of our time
Would love to see a D Berman guestblog here.
cal: fuckin wWIN!
Thanks for botching this story: this should have been about Dickard Berman, you dopes. Obama’s first year: time to tear the heart out of the Lobbyiathan.
goddammit… now I’m crying.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vv1CO8CoCCE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwGgnFXkV70
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=467_K60sy54
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtA869eH21c
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbSULspCdZs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0h2GuMdRiDI
When the governer’s heart fails
the state bird falls from its branch
Icicles on hell’s higher hills
Meanwhile back home at the ranch
I still get up early in the morning
and I never knew a better place
I believe the stars are the headlights of angels
driving from heaven to save us
to save us
Won’t you look at the sky?
They’re driving from heaven into our eyes
and though final words are so hard to devise
I promise that I’ll always remember your pretty eyes
your pretty eyes
DICK Berman = DICK Cheney on steroids.
Also.