What the actual fuck?



Thanks, Jok.  I think.


Merry Christmas, y'all!

Quitters never win

Big Daddy has given up on Autobiography.  He had two more pretty good ejaculations (tee hee!) over SPM's writing but then he just ... quit.  There was no big pronouncement he just sort of let the book fall by the wayside, like I've done with The Master and Margarita.  The difference is, of course, I'm really enjoying The Master and Margarita but got distracted by life (and the literally seven other books I'm reading) whereas Big Daddy just hated SPM too much to keep going.

The best complaint came when Big Daddy and I were reading in bed.  I don't know what I was reading, it could have been any of the aforementioned eight books.  Big Daddy said, 'ugh, twat.'

'What's he done now?' I asked.

'Oh, for fuck's sake.  He's complaining about how no one would give him a job.'

I laughed and Big Daddy read a passage from Autobiography where SPM laments the fact he couldn't get hired at Target while in America, even though their only requirement for employing someone is they had one working eye.

What a cock, guys. I can't even get behind this snobbery and I'm the biggest snob ever.  Or second biggest, apparently.  I pointed out that if all these places that would hire anyone still wouldn't hire SPM maybe he was the fucking problem.  I mean, Jesus: I wouldn't hire him, either, with an attitude like that. 

So I'm not sure if I'll continue the blog for much longer.  I have a few things I want to discuss (like SPM's fans and how they conveniently ignore his crazy bigotry and that SPM/Diana conspiracy - I still don't know what that's about) but beyond that?  I'm not sure.  Let's face it, I am pretty hilarious but blogging is shouting into the void.  We'll see.  I'm sure next time SPM goes on tour or releases a new album I'll have something to write about.

And just in case you're wondering, the books in my list are:

The Sewing Circle: Hollywood's Greatest Secret - Female Stars Who Loved Other Women
Grade so far: C   Too much focus on Garbo.

Breakfast at Tiffany's and another collection of Truman Capote short stories.  I've not started these yet but I better get a move on.  They're due back at the library soon (or are overdue).

The House of Leaves
Grade so far: A  It's a lot of work so I've set it aside until I have nothing else to read

The Secret Race
Grade so far: B+  I love scandal so this is ace.  Plus, Lance Armstrong seems like a dick.  I like reading a book that supports my assumption.

The Master and Margarita
Grade so far: A  I'm not sure why I haven't torn through this one.

And two other books I actually can't remember.  Oh. one of them is The Secret History and I'm not sure about it.  Obviously I don't think that much of it if I can't even remember I'm reading it.

The other is The Virgin Suicides which is obviously excellent because it's by Jeffrey Eugenides.

I'll be OK if I don't decide I need to re-read Dune.

Interim updates

I have some things to report but Big Daddy has basically given up.  I'm so sad about this.  Jok will probably have to take up the mantle of SPMrage.

But before I actually report the things I have to report I have some neat links:

This.


And this.

I also have a post brewing about SPM's fans.  The cognitive dissonance is sometimes staggering (and amusing).

After posting this all I want to do is listen to 'How Soon Is Now?' so I think I'll do just that.

What the ...

I love conspiracy theories, you guys!  I mean, I believe some pretty weird shit so I'm open to the idea that anything is possible.  More things in heaven and earth, etc. etc.

This means I was obviously SUPER EXCITED to get an email from my friend Jok with the subject 'A mystery solved.'

I think he might be right. 

From The Diana-Morrissey Phenomenon

THE DIANA-MORRISSEY PHENOMENON

August 31, 1978:
19 year-old Steven Morrissey first meets guitarist Johnny Marr,
the one who will launch Morrissey's career several years later
by aggressively enlisting him to co-found a band: The Smiths.

August 31, 1997:
19 years to-the-day since Morrissey met guitarist Johnny Marr,
Princess Diana is killed under circumstances foreshadowed
in Morrissey's work, beginning with an album by The Smiths.

The theorist makes some pretty far reaches of logic but this is my kind of theory.  Tenuous links are the best kind!

Interesting fact: if you watch the video (I did, bien sûr) you'll see some images of Diana (R.I.P.) from a famous interview she gave.  I don't remember anything she said in that video but I remember it coming on television.  I'd been a lifelong admirer of Princess Diana (whatever, I was a little girl in the 80s and she was a for real glamorous princess) and, against all logic, I was astounded when she sounded British. It is obvious she'd have an English accent (duh) but because I'd only ever read anything she said my imagination's version of her voice was American.  The same thing happened when I saw the first Harry Potter movie.  I don't think this is unique.

Here's what I learned from this video: SPM always had really fucking excellent hair.

Here's what I didn't learn from this video (but expect to learn from the website): whether or not SPM arranged for Princess Diana's murder.

This is some serious David Icke shit.

Additional players

Jok: born nowhere near Manchester around the same time as Big Daddy (I can never remember who's older but I've known Jok like 6 years and he's never told me his birthday).  We have regular weekend coffee and talk about precious things.

David Icke: born in 1952, David is an ex-footballer turned conspiracy theorist.  My (admittedly) limited knowledge of his beliefs include the understanding he believes the Royal Family to be alien lizard people or similar.  I've never read his books but I so want to!  

I'd be surprised if David features in this blog again but Jok probably will.  I think I'll try to get him to read Autobiography.

 

More pages ... less rage

Why is there less rage?

Big Daddy has been skipping pages.

Yeah, seriously.

He said he's skipped about twenty pages because he 'didn't give a shit about SPM's love of poetry.' I tried to read him the lyrics to 'Cemetry Gates' to explain why the poetry is SO! IMPORTANT! but he just sort of pooh-poohed me and tried to go back to reading.



Note: Cemetry Gates has a bonus 'coming out' lyric. 


I fear he's running out of steam, which is sad because his complaints about SPM are pretty amusing!  It may not even be running out of steam, I think he's finding SPM's prose insurmountably dense (a complaint I've heard and read elsewhere) and likes him less and less with every page.  I suspect he always thought my disdain for Morrissey-the-man (as opposed to Morrissey-the-solo-artist) was misplaced and silly.  I think that disdain is trickling away and becoming understanding. Note: yes, I know, technically it's Morrissey-the-public-persona-not-Morrissey-the-private-individual but that's too long to type.  Artistic license, innit? It's been almost a week since he last sat down with Autobiography. 
 
Today Big Daddy has a meeting with SPM's sister's BFF. I told him he should use it to get the dirt on SPM and to answer some of the questions I have about him.  He said he'd ask her 'if he remembers.' Pfft!  Not very dedicated to my future as a celebrity blogger, is he?  Terrible.

The only real gem we had was a laugh about SPM's break up with Bryan Ferry.  He loved him until he found out his favorite meal was veal. Poor SPM, too delicate to cope with a difference of opinion.  That makes me want to do a load of sad face emoticons while chuckling.

:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(


I might have to give Big Daddy crazy side-eye whenever he picks up a book that isn't Autobiography.  We're in this until the bitter end, dang it!

Facebook bonus

Additional (but still important) cast members

Our Tracey: Our Steve's wife, actually from Salford.  I'm unclear on her position on The Smiths (and also Herbie Hancock but I bet she's not a fan).


Big Daddy asked Our Tracey this on Facebook and I felt it merited inclusion.

Tracey Our Steve needs to tell me if St Mary's was really worse than Strangeways, cos Morrissey makes it sound like some child torture camp from a Charles Dickens novel. I realise Morrissey is, like, about 7 years older than me but surely it can't have been all _that_ different?

Pages 15 - 28...ish. Still early pages.

I'll be honest: this started out pretty loud and got quiet.  I think Big Daddy is

a) actually enjoying this book.
b) mugging for the blog.
c) uncomfortable with his new found fame despite (b).


I came in to the living room and found Big Daddy on the sofa reading.  'What're you reading?' I asked.

Note: THIS IS WHY IT'S NOT WEIRD ANNIE LENNOX WOULD FORGET THE LYRICS TO HER OWN SONGS.  I am blogging about my husband reading Autobiography and I asked him what he was reading because, in that moment, I actually had no idea.


'Morrissey,' he replied.

Duh.

I ignored him and hassled my cat by forcing her to act like a noisy pillow.  I looked at Facebook and thought about my bad headache but didn't actually do anything about it.  I got up to feed the dog and thought about watching my recording of Monday Night Football so I could finally see that Fulham goal everyone's talking about and hear what Gary Neville had to say about United's draw on Saturday.  Instead, I kind of just stuck with Facebook and read a review of Morrissey's book.

'You liar!'

'Oh, hang on! Let me get a pen.'

Big Daddy asked me why I needed a pen.  Um, I'm blogging this.  Duh.  Ok, so blogging doesn't normally use a pen (because it's a weB LOG, get it?) but I don't have a laptop and I was nowhere near the computer. Besides, I wanted to have an accurateish record of what he'd said.

Anyway, he complained about SPM saying he had no electronic gadgets or distractions in his home and then talked about the TV shows his parents watched.  Clearly SPM is unclear on electricity but that's cool, I'm sure I can find someone to explain it to him for a fee.  He can even hit up the Insane Clown Posse but may not actually understand at the end of that conversation.  There was a lot of swearing about how SPM undermined his own statement by talking about television 'in the same fucking paragraph' as his statement there were no electronics.

Big Daddy started talking about his pay-as-you-watch-television-set (with a slot for 50p in the back) and I thought, 'Jesus, England, you could have used this technological energy to standardize MIXER TAPS IN EVERY BATHROOM but instead you chose PAYG television.'

What the actual fuck?  This country is fucking freezing and raining like all the bastard time (SPM was totally right when he said 'the rain falls down on a humdrum town') and instead of one faucet for your hot and cold sink water and every house with actual heating some asshole decided coin operated TV was the way forward.

Oh. Em. Eff. Gee. I think I'm turning into Morrissey, you guys. 

'God, they couldn't have been that fucking poor if they had an holiday in Staten Island.  Unless England has a Staten Island.'

I would have said my family went to New York on vacation but that doesn't sound as pretentious and off-the-beaten track, I guess.  Then I looked at a picture of SPM's mom in a bikini on this vacation and she was totally a looker.

After deciding SPM was like, a proto-hipster (hipster before it was uncool?  I'll come back to this with something funnier in like six months.) I went back to my reading and forcing my cat to be my pillow.  After what was probably four pages of reading time I stood up to wander into the kitchen and Big Daddy said, 'Jesus, how did no one know he was gay?'

Background: Big Daddy and I have always wondered this.  Several of The Smiths' songs are clearly about being gay. 'My only weakness is a listed crime,' guys. COME ON.  He means SEX WITH DUDES.

Note: my ironclad reasoning applies if the lyric is 'list of crimes,' too.  Go me!


There are other lyrics in other songs.  I might get Big Daddy to have a listening party with me where we write down every song lyric that is SPM going, 'I'm queer.'  How this is a surprise to anyone is beyond us.

It actually kind of makes me sad for both SPM and his legions of queer fans.  I'm conflicted about famous people coming out: if someone doesn't want to come out I can understand all the reasons why they wouldn't (even if I may disagree with some of them) but at the same time I don't think famous people actually owe us anything.  I don't think they owe us certain behavior and have to be role models but at the same time, with young, queer people still committing suicide how can you actually not be out?  How can you not do your bit to help break down heteronormativity?

Anyway, the reason for Big Daddy's confusion is this: SPM used to watch Miss World (he called it 'unmissable high drama') and scored the candidates with his own, complex scoring system.  There are a lot of stereotypes at play, here, but I get it.  If you asked someone to come up with a 'young, queer male stereotype' I'm pretty sure this would be in there.

I've never been into beauty pageants.  I think they're bo-ring.

'Oh, fuck OFF.'

Big Daddy read me an excerpt of SPM complaining about (I guess?) the cruelty of Tarzan (yeah, the TV program) for showing 'elsewhere' that wasn't Manchester.  Actually, the excerpt came after the part where Big Daddy just opened and closed his mouth, completely incapable of verbalizing his irritation at SPM.  Eventually this ended with a lot of swearing and the insistence that of COURSE [SPM] wasn't seeing elsewhere.

'It's because you won't leave your fucking room.'

Interesting fact: SPM fainted the first time his dad took him to Old Trafford to see George Best. What? I don't even know.  What?  I'll bet his Dad was pissed.  If I had a kid, I probably would've just left it to recover on the concourse (this is why I don't have kids).

To finish off Big Daddy's reading our intrepid hero (actually, I'm not sure if that's me or Morrissey at this point but we'll assume the latter) claimed the teachers at St. Mary's Secondary Modern routinely beat the boys.

SPM had better watch out because WE CAN ACTUALLY FACT CHECK THIS.  Big Daddy is going to ask Our Steve if that's true.  If so, SCANDALOUS.

Interesting fact: when Big Daddy and Our Steve were kids one of the schools in Stretford had an headmaster called Mr. Bent.  The sign outside the school read, 'A. Bent, Headmaster.'  Yeah, my husband is still laughing at this after 30 years.  No judgement: I'll be laughing that the suburb of Manchester is called Chorlton-cum-Hardy for many, many years to come.  It's never not funny, you guys.

Bonus coming out lyric (willful ignorance FTW, I guess):

But now you know the truth about me
You won't see me anymore
But I'm still fond of you


This blog post actually presents a top ten list of SPM's lyrics which address gay themes or allude to his homosexuality.  I don't 100% agree with all of the interpretations but some of them I did a metaphorical fist pump.  In any case this blog post is really interesting.

Bonus review by Sasha Frere-Jones in the New Yorker.