Battered Reader Syndrome

You must know something about me--it propels everything that follows, everything I do, and everything I am.

I have a bad memory. I may forget your name, I may forget your birthday, your favorite food, favorite color, I might even forget what you look like. But I never, ever forget when somebody fucks with me.

And yet…I go through battered reader syndrome when it comes to City Paper. I pick it up on the week I have a show, thinking that maybe this time, maybe, just maybe, I will have earned a spot in The Short List (sometimes) or maybe the Baltimore Weekly Highlights (never). And then I’m just pissed at myself for running back into the arms of my abuser. And then I take a look at what they DID bother to mention in the “Highlights” of the Baltimore (let me repeat that…BALTIMORE) City Paper and what do I find for Wednesday, June 11?
Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like Wednesday did not exist at all, and they skipped right to Thursday. O-kay. (I wasn’t expecting my show to be in the highlights, but you can’t tell me there wasn’t something that could have been put there for Wednesday. And, shit, if you didn’t have anything, you could have then plugged my show. Which of course, you never will.)

So let me check out the Short List of the BALTIMORE City Paper, and what did we find for Wednesday, June 11, 2008? A big plug for the Breeders show in WASHINGTON, D.C. For those of you unfamiliar with the geography of the area, let me simplify it. Baltimore is not in D.C. Baltimore is Baltimore. I know we are becoming occupied by yuppy fucks from D.C as they take our land and give us blankets with smallpox, but no matter what they do, this is still Baltimore. And D.C does not need our press. No disrespect meant to the Breeders, but like I said, that’s D.C. I had a show last night, too, which was pretty great in spite of the typical lack of coverage in that shit rag fuck of a City Paper. But we have given up our status as a city that supports the developing artist and musician and we are now chasing the money, courting the D.C crowd, hoping that one day we can eliminate those poor Baltimore people who keep blocking the view. And this starts with acting like D.C and Baltimore area really like the Twin Cities of the East Coast. They’re not.

So, in short, thank you for not even mentioning my show last night, in any meaningful way. I’m sure if I was a member of your little club, and knew the secret handshake, I could have gotten a full page in your paper. Like I said, I have a bad memory, but if you fuck with me I will never forget you.

Dark Thoughts...

City Paper is, of course, the original source of my rage. Hence, the whole “Parochialist” blog. But as I’ve gone on in doing this, I feel as though I have uncovered darker and darker truths about the city in which I live. Darker and darker forces that have threatened to turn Charm City into something I could never love. I’m talking about gentrification.

I have been promoting a show (Sidebar, June 11! And if you miss that…The Metro Gallery, June 14!) and as I walk around what used to be a dark outpost of Baltimore, Charles Village, has become a yuppy haven, complete with Starbucks and useless boutique-type stores. This is not news, we have all seen this (at least those of us who live here). But what is different now is a city that I used to love for its’ laissez-faire approach, its’ “as long as you’re not killing anybody we’ll leave you alone” attitude, is now falling in line with the Nazi-esque zero-tolerance attitude that is prevalent in other places. We have to make the city safe for Hopkins students, Yankees fans, and people from D.C. Fuck the people who’ve been living here all along.

Okay, I’ll admit: this little rant is coming about because just the other day I was stopped by the police for putting up a flyer and threatened with arrest if I did not take all my flyers down. All I could think the whole time I was keeping my mouth shut and letting Officer Hassle spew forth cop clichés was “really?” I have been flyering for a long time now and I have never, ever had anyone say one word about it. But because I did it in broad daylight, downtown, directly across from the Washington Monument, in what has become a pricey and increasingly unlivable area for normal folks (ten years ago many of my friends live in this area, and now they can’t afford it), I was stopped because I was apparently “trashing the city.” Whether this is true or not, all I could think was that this used to be a city where no one ever, ever gave a shit what you did. Cops left you alone because they had better things to do. But now…

Maybe I’m making too much of this. But all I know is that City Paper has been co-opted, Baltimore is getting sold out, Yankee fans and Red Sox fans are more important that Orioles fans who live here and suffer here, and if I get caught putting up flyers to promote myself, I am fucked. We’re all fucked.

Whose Economy?

Sorry I haven’t posted in awhile.


Whose economy?


I am sick to death of hearing sportscasters and people in the media talking about how much the Yankees fans and Red Sox fans coming to Baltimore and invading our stadium HELPS THE ECONOMY. Fuck that. It doesn’t help my economy. It helps Peter Angelos’ economy. It helps overpriced hotels. It helps a few people sell some extra peanuts. Why the fuck should we care about that?
Fuck The B free daily paper. It is an even bigger piece of shit than the City Paper. I will elaborate in future editions of The Parochialist.

Go O’s!