Some more wannabe profundity, dear wort-reader, before I get to the asterisk reference. Or maybe not. Let’s talk about farming and music today. For these are two of many more things that, in order to be understood, require a huge amount of asterisks. Or maybe not. Can farming and music be connected? Indeed they can–with an asterisk. But first. When I left #americant for expatriation pseudo-glory it was in the wake of a series of benefit concerts that sold a shitload of music under the vale of helping farmers or the poor. Even though a few people might joke about the 1980s, one thing, for me, is sure. The 80s are without doubt the last decade where music was connected to the past that made it. It was also the last moment in history where the complexity of idealogical politics hadn’t yet collected its toll–that we are paying today. As far as the music goes, a new generation of producers took over in the 90s and subsequent new millennia. Even though bands in the 90s like Nirvana and Pearl Jam did there best to hold on to the simplicity of the past. But the complex, money grubbing producers of the now, obviously, won-out. Hence we now live in a music world devoid of creativity. Which brings me full-circle to farming. The same thing that happened to music happened to the food we must eat. Music from the likes of Beyonce is the shit, right? In #americant you can’t get a good tasting tomato! Regurgitated beats pollute the ear. You can see the shipping scares on fruit picked too early and left to ripen on ships. Decoded and encoded music has no feel. Beef tastes like nothing a bovine eats (when it should be just grass and, maybe, German beer.) And that all in the wake of Farm-Aid and trying to save farmers from the wrath of corporate servitude. Now we live in the wake of bad music (thank goodness I have been able to cultivate a massive digital library of all the music I love from 1980s and earlier) and the gluttony of genetically modified foods. And I’m wondering who is gonna throw a benefit concert for the ramifications of it all? Hence my cynicism toward benefit concerts. All that money raised. And for what? So that farmers can afford GPS driven tractors that harvest genetically enhanced food that tastes worse than ever–unless fortified with the lie of salt and sugar? Which brings me to the asterisk in the pic above. I’m actually not as shocked as I should be with the pic. I guess I’m just getting too old and/or I’m used to this level of (corporate) behaviour. Or I just love Cheerios too much. Anywho. The text in the pic above is the most sincere explanation of our demise that I have ever seen–on the side of a cereal box. We should be thankful that the corpos stick this in our face. They know there is nothing we can do. And I know it too. Oh well.
Not made with genetically modified ingredients.*
*Trace amounts of genetically modified (also known as “genetically engineered”) material may be present due to cross contact during manufacturing and shipping.
For whatever worst-writer reason this makes me think about and feel even more sorry for India Farmers that have been killing themselves en mass. It also makes me think of the arrogance of the corpos. But none of that really matters. Because THEY have already corrupted our music and our food with stuff that we cannot turn back. We can’t reverse the after-effects of genetically modified foods. You can’t un-hear Beyonce. That is, indeed, what the statement on the side of a cereal box says. Once you start messing with this stuff there is no turning back. Even if you wanted to you can’t avoid the cross pollination that will connect the modified gene with the non-modified gene. A corn farmer without, if s/he plants near a corn farmer with, is doomed. Or? Nomatter. Good luck suckers. May your life be ruled by asterisks. Rant on. -Tommi
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