Last week I went to see Culture Clash in AmeriCCa with my new friends Posh and Blondie who are not related to Spice (Old or New) or the 80’s band fronted by Debbie Harry, who’s not really that hairy from what I can tell. From what I can tell, Culture Clash in AmeriCCa thinks Americans have bifurcated (and bi-f*cked-up) identities that have been falsely formulated in the nebulous ooze and ozone of American Exceptionalism.
I think each of us are logos. And I don’t mean the kind of logos you snap together (snap snap) to build stuff. I mean we’re symbols of who we want to be (or were). Our symbolic self searches for our non-symbolic self in our symbolic universe. We resemble and amble like split screen images of ourselves–half this, half that, half bred, non breed, mixed breed, whole wheat bread. We are hybrid identities hiding within the identity we cherish the most when, in fact, we are beside ourselves. Inside others. Fused and bound in invisible ways. Yes, even to gays in infinitely exceptional ways. Hey.
Our true identity is hairy unlike Debbie Harry who isn’t really hairy. Anyway, Posh, Blondie and I laughed our ass hats off at the jokes that were really subtle forms of cultural criticism. After the performance, there was a serious Q&A discussion with the Culture Clash In AmeriCCa guys. One guy spilled his beer on stage. Posh jumped out of her seat and licked it up like a deranged Pomeranian. We left (or were escorted out). Energized in our neonatal selves we thought about what one of the performers said during the event: I’d take 20 Fidel Castros over 1 Papa Doc.
I have no idea what he meant but we all nodded our heads in agreement because the tone of his voice revealed the underlying hypocrisy–that (black) Haitian immigrants are not treated fairly even though their suffering has been greater or just as great as Cubans who live/lived under Fidel Castro. If we understood, correctly. If this doesn’t make sense, you should have been there. I can’t explain anymore. I’m tired. By the way, Posh and Blondie had sex in bathroom after the event. They don’t even have genitals, so I’m not sure what kind of sex they had, or what sex they are. All I know is that they can’t breed and get mixed up like the rest of us. At least that’s what they say.