A declaration of war

The ambition of a writer like myself is to become more
disruptive, more dangerous, and more powerful.

--Norman Mailer

Every single week -- bar none -- I am bombarded by letters from
you, my ever-faithful readers, asking me one version or another of the
very same question: "Why are you so angry?"

Frankly, I think you've got a lot of nerve asking me that question.
Just take a look around. It's insane out there! And unless you're one of
those positive thinkers or a total fool, it's gonna get to you (or make
you crazy) sooner or later. My question is, how come anger makes you
squirm like that? Why has anger become the great taboo?

Look, there are a million reasons to be mad. Just check out the
morning papers. It's totally and completely nuts out there!

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Kids are joining cults, committing suicide, gobbling drugs, turning
to demon worship, contracting venereal disease at 12 years of age.
Everywhere you look there's death, disease and madness. People are
killing themselves, their parents, their wives and their neighbors.

Still, I wonder why people are so shocked by it all? Is it really so
strange that some guy goes into McDonald's and blows away 55 people?
Frankly, I'm amazed we don't have 50 of those guys a week ... some poor
beaten-down soul who can't handle it anymore. We're gonna have a lot
more of those guys, mark my words.

Another thing that gets to me -- in this foul year of the Positive
Thinker -- is that there doesn't seem to be anything going on out
there. It's all cosmetics and clothes and style and hype and horrible
music and stupid kids hanging out in front of nightclubs with their rock
and roll haircuts thinking that they're God.

Try as I might, I just can't get real excited about the latest Ricky
Martin CD or Spielberg's latest piece of crap, or another stupid movie
with a bunch of horrible teenagers belching and throwing food all over
the place. Does anybody really get a kick out of this stuff?

Let's take rock and roll, the supposed refuge of the independent
thinker. From my point of view, rock and roll may be big business, but
it's a trivial little category in American culture. All of those people
you worship today are going to have day jobs five years from now. But
let's get serious. There is no more rock and roll. Rock and roll
died with Elvis Presley. Anybody with half a brain knows that! I used to
earn my living (if one could call it that) as a music critic, until I
realized that it was a totally idiotic, pointless thing to be doing. I
mean, today you've got 40-year-old guys writing about music that's
geared for 12-year-olds. I mean -- good God -- how indecent can
you get?

You see, when I began writing this column, I decided that the only
way it would mean anything to me was to stand out from amongst the
plethora of cowards and bores who refer to themselves as "critics." To
declare war, as it were. War on all the snobs, pimps, cowards and
butt-kissers. War on the managers, the tastemakers, the greedheads and
conforming madmen who refuse to look at reality and who call you "overly
negative" when you point out things that make them uncomfortable. War on
the people who grind you down and beat you down every day until you
finally say, "OK, I give."

See, the truth is that while we're here, we do battle. But it's not
enough merely to be a good fighter. You've got to be the baddest dude
around. You've got to deliver a KO every single time out. Because if
you're only second-best, people are always messing with you. So you've
got to fight and keep on fighting until you can't fight anymore ...
until they clear away the bodies.

Because every day they waste you a little bit more. They suck out a
little more of the lifeblood. Then one day you wake up and you're too
old and tired to fight anymore and that's when they've got you. And the
price you pay for sitting back and taking it easy -- for watching from
the sidelines -- is your soul, people. Nothing more, nothing less.
That's the price for your cowardice, for refusing to look at the
stupidity, the ugliness and the insanity.

Wake up! Move! Do something! Join up now!

No, I don't mean join my battle -- because my battle is mine and
yours is yours, and ultimately we're each alone. But you've got to
choose sides nevertheless. That's the way it is -- there's no middle
ground.

If you want to join the ranks, fine. If not, then simply by the
nature of the game you're my enemy. If that's the case I suggest you
stay the hell out of my way, because I'm playing for keeps. And I intend
to do some serious damage before they zip me up in that plastic bag and
haul my carcass away.

The time is now. The lines are drawn. The choice is yours.

GOLDMAN HOOH HAH: I'll make it brief this week kiddies. If you
haven't yet gotten your copy of "Secrets Of The Super Snoopers," you'd
be advised to do so now. It will only be sold for a couple more weeks,
after which it'll be replaced by "Revenge Of Secrets Of The
Supersnoopers."
And while I'm at it, I want to thank Joe Farah and WorldNetDaily for
making "Super Snoopers" a bestseller. I'm not allowed to quote figures,
but this book has sold so phenomenally from the first day we put it on
WorldNetDaily -- and has turned into a national bestseller -- with
absolutely NO advertising -- other than the small ad we run on this
site. So, if any of you out there are wondering where to put your
advertising bucks, I can personally testify that this site is ten times
more effective than Yahoo, Alta Vista or any of the other so called
biggies. And that's no lie, gang.

Other than that, there are going to be major changes in "The
Tongue" over the next couple of weeks. We
have just added about 100 new books to our SuperSpy
bookstore, so check
it out. I suggest you bookmark the site, and check back daily to see the
changes we're making. I think you'll like 'em. And if you don't -- too
friggin' bad!

Later, alligators.