Warning: I’m wrote this on a plane… I’m sorry.
What the sweaty hot fat fuck happened with fucking entitled thin-dicked airlines?! There was a time when flying was a luxurious, something to be coveted. Fancy fucking businessmen flew the skies with pride. But it seems the more elaborate the format for watching the inflight movie is, the worse things have become. Airplanes are cool as fuck. I’ve got no flack with airplanes. They’re pure baller. I’m flying through the sky in a metal tube that weighs 70 metric tons! What’s not amazing about that? But, once inside this humid soup can it smells like a mix of salt and vinegar chips, animal crackers, with just a splash of hotdog water. The seats are so small that I end up sucking on my kneecap for sustenance because the pretzels they found in the lost temple of Giza are surprisingly dry. As soon as you walk through those airline doors it no longer matters who you are or what you have done. You might be a Nobel laureate or figured out three of the seven Millennium Prize Problems, once you’re here you’re fucking cattle. “This is seat 24 D,” the steward will scoff, “not 24 C”. Really? You’re going to lay on your sword for this one, motherfucker? Once people start switching seats to get somewhere more comfortable anarchy will then ensue? That’s the final fucking line? You took a 2-week course on how to serve coffee at high altitude, stop acting like you’re a fucking god.
Whenever I feel like my freedoms have been taken away from me, I get kinda pissed. I’m not for this whole sacrificing a freedom here and there for a bit of security theatre. My way to fight back? I listen to old punk music while starring at people on the plane. While someone stuffs an 18-dollar chicken wrap, too old to be sold at an antique gas station, down their throat while watching Minions fuck, I stare. Sure, the steward feels really uncomfortable under my cynical gaze, but this album pumping into my ears has this way of inspiring me to not give a fuck.
This is the 1981 debut album of Television Personalities, a band that really didn’t make it at the time but has made a huge impact since. Bands such as Jesus and Mary Chain, Pavement, and MGMT claim them as a major influence. This music isn’t just piss and vinegar though, it has heart. So as the steward tries to avoid my cold dead black eyes as he awkwardly serves mini cans of Clamato juice, my soul is being fed. I feel better about myself. I feel genuine joy. Because it doesn’t matter how cold and empty this world is. Hell, at times it can feel like we’re all crammed inside a tin fucking can. You can still find joy and gladness if you find it within yourself to give half a fuck. So, give someone a smile, wave hello, actually be interested in someone when you’re fucking talk to them. Cause, one day, you might look up from that tiny screen and see the world is gone. Want a real life example of this? I dare you to look around next time you’re on a long flight. That’s what’s coming if we don’t change things. My trick? Look at people. Because it’s way harder to slaughter cattle if you can see they have a soul.