Hotline Bling: Hedonism and Drake

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For those of you who hold the sense of hearing, I am quite sure your ears have been bedazzled by rapper/singer Drake's Hotline Bling; for those of you fortunate enough to not be able to hear this, unfortunately you have only had the opportunity to let his Uncle-Derrick-the-pervert-at-a-child-halloween-party-bash dance moves bedazzle you, and for people like me, who take everything in a rather serious manner, you have been offended at the lyrics contained in the video, in just the same way as professional choreographers have taken offence to his dance moves.
And for those of you even more like me, you would have shook your head at the lyrics and their connection to our current society, a society where hedonism is glorified and highly sought after - one would go so far as to say that the latest iPhone and hedonism go head to head in the minds of our adolescents and young adults. Four minutes of Auras of pastel colours and silhouette of slow grinding later, the entire meaning of modern love has been redefined. And though modern love revolves around sexual encounters, sex is still somewhat frowned upon. Well, the word, at least.
 
Yes. 'Sex' is still rather taboo in our society, surprisingly enough, and this is particularly the case in Disney movies. Apparently storks deliver babies and cartoon women do not have to undergo hours and months of pain and contractions and bladder leakage and vaginal discharge and days without sex. Do they even have genitals? Who knows. And why attack Disney? Well, popular culture. So popular that it has inherently become a part of our society, replacing common sense.
 Just the other day, on my journeying to obtain a so-called fresh Subway roll, I parked next to a metallic blue car with the windows down and the doors throbbing. Inside, seated on the passenger seat was a young girl, I would say somewhere in her late teens. She had her feet up on the dashboard and her phone cradled in both her hands atop the meeting of her thighs and her head, along with the entire car itself, was bopping to Drake's Hotline Bling. And as the lyrics rung out through the open windows, I shook my head and walked away, prioritising my plan to fetch my meal, and not wishing to ask her if she was aware that the lyrics she was ingesting contained a sexually implicit desire for lust.
You used to call me on my cellphone / Late night when you need my love / I know when that hotline bling, / that could only mean one thing, sings Drake, and radios all around the world boosted it into their top ten. Sometimes I wonder why it is that we censor direct sexual language, and not indirect?
Poor Drake, right? Why is this devilish writer targeting the one rapper who is emotionally adept, and unafraid to show girls all around the world that his many hypothetical break-ups have taken a toll on him? He is not the only singer with sexually implicit tracks bumping on our radios. Take Jason Derulo's Trumpets, for instance, wherein he sings, Yeah the drums they swing low / And the trumpets they go / Da da, da ra ra ra, da da [...], implying that once the woman's breasts are in his vicinity and unclothed, his urinating device blows like a trumpet. Put the pieces together.

And let us not forget Flo Rida's Whistle: Can you blow my whistle baby / Let me know / Girl I'm gonna show you how to do it / And we start real slow / You just put your lips together / And you come real close. The amount of times I have heard little children whistle along to the catchy whistle in the song makes me cringe. 

And classic songs are not exempt from this. Take I'm So Excited by The Pointed Sisters: Give in this time and show me some affection / We're goin' for the pleasures in the night. / I want to love you / Feel you / Wrap myself around you / I want to please you / Squeeze you / And if you move real slow / I'll let it go. These were the songs my parents would have rolled their ankles to. 

Or The Divinyls' I Touch Myself? Olivia Newton John's Let's Get Physical? Labelle's Lady Marmalade? Or Britney Spears' If you Seek Amy? Donna Summer sought some  Hot Stuff and 50 Cent invited people to his Candy Shop. Next informed females all over the world that if they got Too Close they would 'make it hard' for them. Salt-n-Pepa had no shame blatantly asking people to Push it, and neither did George Michael when he sung  I want your Sex. Marvin Gaye said, Let's Get it On, and Ludacris decided to politely ask What's your Fantasy, attempting to take in his listeners' preferences. The Ying Yang Twins, on the other hand, decided to take things more intimately in the ear, singing Wait (The Whisper Song). R. Kelly in the meantime saw nothing wrong with a little Bump N Grind, and Madonna cried out Like a Virgin and David Banner asked her not to Play with him. These songs and more, all causing a Sexual Eruption, much like Snoop Dogg's, all through the radio and through its listeners ears. Do not get me started on their video clips.

And so that brings me to my point at hand: why are these lyrics not as frowned upon as the word 'f**k'? I think that implications are worse than blatant desires. Implications can be picked up by many innocent ears and spread around like margarine on freshly toasted bread, all over the schoolyard. And that can lead to problematic situations in the owners of the innocent ears' futures, for when they wish to court with another human, they will dance around the matter - not to mention how awful courting through sexually implicit wording is:

"Can you blow my whistle?"

"You make my trumpet go da da ra da da!"

"Tell me if you want to seek Amy!"

"I want some hot stuff. I need some hot stuff. Give me your hot stuff."

"I don't see nothing wrong with bumping and grinding?"

"You make me feel like a virgin."

"I'm hot just like an oven. I need your loving."

"When I'm feeling down, I want you above me."

So what is the point of censoring vulgar words, when sexually implicit phrases, equally and most of time more vulgar are allowed to ring through our ears? Would you rather have your child hear the word 'f**k' or would you prefer having your child be asked by Flo Rida himself to blow his whistle? And so what we are left with is a hedonistic culture that frowns upon direct hedonistic ways, and glorifies sexually implicit language.

Thank you, Drake, for the questions you have posed in my mind. For your awful lyrics that make amazingly funny Joseph Ducreux memes. For unknowingly giving hedonism room to grow in the minds of the innocent. For making awful dancing look 'cool'. And I hope that girl never calls you again.

Dear Kat Von D

After having just moved houses, parts of my life that have slipped away have reappeared, such as DVD sets of your television show, LA Ink, and several tattoo magazines with you featured on the cover. I even went so far as to purchase my very own tattoo machine, and even performed my first tattoo. I suppose at one stage of my life, I looked up to you.

Now, however, things have changed. I have been watching you through my social media feed. You have promoted yourself and recently you came to my neighbouring city, Sydney. I was affronted with the fact that I could not afford to go see you, even if it were just for the promotion of your cosmetics line, and not for the promotion of what you apparently excel in: tattoo art. Time passed, I barely paid attention to any of your posts, and tonight, one of your posts struck me with both a tinge of surprise and a tinge of anger:

"Fuck everyone", you write. Thank you, Kat. From a former fan, who used to stare wide-eyed at my television set, watching you tattoo people. Thank you, from a former fan who one day wished to fill your shoes. Thank you on behalf of all current and soon-to-be former fans.

Recently, something inside of me has been re-ignited, and that is my love for certain peoples. I have seen a falsified version of passion pouring out of people such as yourself, masking your vanity, and I have seen the passion of regular people who, in their daily treks, have nothing to mask, and instead, reveal their true sense of human nature. These people are people like my father, who, buried in debt, gives money to drug-addicted customers who revel in his presence when they feel hungry. He is under a lot of stress to support his family, yet he wears a smile and wakes up every morning to drive an hour to work and still sports a smile. You have people like my mother, who has survived a bombing back home in Lebanon, who has left behind her passion for medicine after her father passed away to support herself and her siblings, and who has left her desires to ensure my own. You have people like my family friend, a single mother, who is one of the best nurses you should ever meet, had you lived here and fallen ill, who dedicates all of her time tending for the ill in order to support her only son, and other nurses alike, who all are underpaid. You have doctors, surgeons, lawyers, firefighters who risked their lives to assist victims in the 9/11 terror attack, dentists, pharmacists, social justice workers, youth workers, educators who strive every single day to act as role models for younger citizens, and police officers who attempt to keep social order: and who are you?

"Fuck everyone", you say, perhaps only jokingly, however I am disliking your undertone. True rolemodelship occurs in places which merit higher-order thinking, and the unconditional care for others, Kat. Who are you? Who are you, really, without your fans? Who are you directing this hate-filled nonsense at? Without your fans, who happen to be people which constitute the human race, and exist in the group you label "everyone", you are just another person with a tattoo gun, looking to make a living by scarring the skin of others and leaving behind traces of ink. Wow. A great contribution to society.

I am sick of society's valuing of certain figures who deserve no spotlight. The mind is a wonderful tool yet it is an unpopular one. People like Maya Angelou, or Marina Abramović, they are people who are of value, but thanks to people like you, Kat, here are sixty-thousand people who agree with your sense of loathing, who agree that, yes, "fuck everyone". No, Kat, I will not sit here and let you demerit those who are unseen because of the valuing of people such as yourself, who stomp around on the little people, and use their dignities as a springboard for you to dive into a large pool of their own money.

Take a step back, Kat, and think of the younger people like me, who used to aspire to be a vain, undeserving heap of abhorrence such as yourself. I have left the teaching industry temporarily to cater for academia, however I do not appreciate all students past and current who look up to you the way I did, only to see a loathing person. I forgive them, for they are yet to find and explore their spark of humanity, thus they cannot see you for who you truly are, behind all the glitz and glamour of showbiz. Reevaluate your outlook on life, Kat. You are nothing without the cheers of those who follow you. Who are you aiming that at?

P.S: I can draw much better than you, but I do not need my own television show to know that.

Oh, and Kat? Fuck you. 

Profanities

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As of late, I have been attempting to reduce my level of profanity. In fact, I have been able to go days without swearing once. The other day, I walked past a woman who reminded me why this was a good decision on my part.

This lady, somewhere in her fifties, is the type of person who speaks on the phone and wants all onlookers to hear her entire conversation. Her conversation, though, was based on something that is not meant to be paired by accompanying words of profanity.

From what I gathered, thanks to her loud, beaming voice, her six year old son has a rotten tooth.
"F**king idiot can't brush his f**king teeth!" she screamed, looking around at me to make sure that I heard what she said. "F**king hell!" She proceeded to carry on in this manner to her friend on the other line, who, I presume, was enjoying herself. Fancy enjoying herself if the call had been about her, lead by her mother and her mother's friend?

My blood boiled. I walked faster in the opposite direction towards my class so as to not be tempted by her thunderous expletives to turn around and smack her nose into her face. I was so proud of myself for not executing what my fight and not flight instinct was telling me to execute. 

What is stopping that mother, though, from teaching her son how to brush his teeth properly so as to save himself the pain of rotten teeth? What benefit does she obtain in parading around university grounds screaming ill-natured things about her son, who is going through what most children go through? 

Some mothers make me reconsider my stance on abortions.

What the F*ck? Melbournians are Fined for Public Swearing?

Oh? So a new law just came in today stating that if one swore in a public place, they would be fined $500? And people are now swearing at that law because it oppresses their sense of public freedom? 

Let me bring in a little anecdote of something that happens all too regularly on an ordinary trip to a local shopping centre - I witness teenagers in their little groups of 'cool,' using derogatory terms about homosexuals, filthy words to replace the act fornication, and even more horrid words against people of varied races and skin colours. I hear older boys swearing around younger children, deteriorating one of their aspects of innocence by the simple act of cussing. I hear the not-so-classy people wearing torn pants and a stained singlet walking around swearing at kiosks for not letting them purchase a drink which costs five cents more than they can afford.

I still remember the first time I heard the word 'f*ck'. I was in the courtyard at my primary school, in a brick-cylinder, playing with a tennis ball, slamming it against the wall and talking to my friends about our latest Pok'emon catches. All of the sudden, the 'cool' boy in year six and his gang of followers walked in. They all gathered around him as my friends and I took a step back, and we, not knowing about the greatest spectacle that was to come from this boy's mouth, eavesdropped at the very moment he said it, and we all gasped. He gave a 'cool' smile and then walked out of the brick cylinder. We just stood there, unable to accept what had just happened. Did we just hear that? Did he really just say that? Yes, yes he did. I know that from that moment, at the age of just nine, an aspect of my innocence was taken from me.

I know that things are far different now than they were in the year 2001. I know that a lot of children nine and under have access to the internet and are exposed to things that they were never meant to know until they had neared the middle of puberty, and I know that some of these kids even use those words themselves because they hear it all too often in their households. Nevertheless, if the government imposes such a fine upon filthy public vocabulary, then the hearing of these terms would be sprawled around our public sphere less, and it will slowly but surely turn into a social norm that words such as 'f*ck' and 'c*nt' are not acceptable to use in sentences to describe things in negative or positive ways, nor are they acceptable to replace words like those that describe the act of fornication, those that come before a feeling to emphasise the feeling of that feeling, nor to replace 'heck' in exclamations like 'what the heck!'

I believe that swear words have their places, such as if one was speaking to their peers in a private room in the library about an assignment that they loathe, or if someone is in a lot of traffic on their way to a meeting that had started without them thirty minutes ago, but I do not believe that it should be used around the general public where innocent ears lurk, nor towards authoritative figures like police officers when the user of those words has clearly committed an offence: police are people too, they are just far more caring about the safety of others to ignore that man who is running off with a new television from Harvey Norman, or to ignore that drunk indecent man flashing his private parts to a group of year 7 girls exiting from their highschool and taking the shortcut home through an alleyway around the corner, or that crazy woman who pressed her lit cigarette onto a young man's forearm and as he came to hit her began yelling about how he is sexually assaulting her. There are far too many problems occurring in the world for us to just stop and complain about the stripping of our freedom because of the taking away of our indecency to use words of vulgarity around others in public.

I mean, think about it, really - do you really need words of profanity in your everyday discourse? Recently, I have excluded most of my vulgar language use in my conversations due to the fact that I now work with adolescents and children, and I have found myself using varied adjectives rather than that monotonous 'f*ck' word. I have found that my sense of description is far more expansive, and that instead of saying "what the f*ck?!", "why did that just happen, I don't quite feel comfortable about how that person responded to that and I particularly don't enjoy how that saucepan had almost his me right in the head had I not ducked in time!" works far more better. It states what happened, and it states my opinion about what happened, so that a three-dimensional form of reasoning emanates from my mouth, rather than an unpretentious, overrated word.

Challenge yourself, before a $500 fine does. The world is much more three-dimensional with artistic conversation. Try to use descriptive words rather than the bland words Samuel L. Jackson uses in his film Snakes on a Plane. I mean, he says the word "motherf*cker" so much that the viewer forgets the movie is about snakes on a plane rather than a mother who keeps on fornicating. Language is beautiful, do not kill it with profanity.