In Brief: Pussy Riot

The upside here is that the media has to use the words "Pussy Riot" seriously and, when possible, with gravitas. Bring Brokaw in, he'll know what to do. 

The downside is a lot of other things that are more important than my juvenile glee in the face of grown-ups saying decidedly non-grown up things. But that's, of course, what Russia has wrought here: a non-grown up conviction of three members of a band with a non-grown up name over an offense that was actually grown up-neutral. 

This is one of those moments where I have to stop and give America credit for not being this shitty. Sure, if a musician says something unpopular, they'll have their albums burned and sponsorships lost until they offer a lazy, mumbled apology.  Even that's not necessary if you keep your offense firmly within the Fox News acceptability scale. Ted Nugent (a walking, drooling example of why we should be less sad when rock stars die young) made explicit, just-short-of-threatening remarks about murdering the sitting President and Secretary of State on separate occasions and experienced no real consequences, beyond a Secret Service investigation (which will tend to happen when you appear to threaten the Commander-in-Chief; commie fascists, amirite?). More recently, Megadeth frontman Dave Mustaine accused Obama of staging the recent shootings in Colorado and Wisconsin. What's happened to him? The Internet called him some names. And... that's been it.

Because even when something really stupid and borderline offensive happens (and offering a prayer for God to remove the chief executive would fall firmly within those parameters if it happened here), the government rarely gets its panties in a bunch. That's not necessarily because we the American people are so confident in our Constitutional institutions (the Tea Party, for example, has no faith in the founding fathers or their documents or any of the concepts that they profess to revere). It's because our institutions happen to be strong enough to take those kind of insubstantial punches. And just enough of us are aware of that fact that we don't feel the need to come down on a punk band for, well, being a punk band.

You'd think that a man with a judo background who can hunt big game would be at least as secure in himself.

How It Works Now

Patton Oswalt is a comedian.  A very funny one.  Here he is taking time out from a very solid bit in order to tear a heckler a new scream hole.  Last week, Oswalt gave the keynote address at the Just For Laughs Comedy Conference, which is a thing.  You can read his address here.  And I recommend reading it in full, but I want to highlight this:

I need to decide more career stuff for myself and make it happen for myself, and I need to stop waiting to luck out and be given... I’m seeing this notion take form in a lot of my friends. A lot of you out there. You, for instance, the person I’m writing to. Your podcast is amazing. Your videos on your YouTube channel are getting better and better every single one that you make, just like when we did open mics, better and better every week. Your Twitter feed is hilarious.

Now, Oswalt is on a much higher plane than I.  Even aside from his being in a different artistic field, he is so much more talented and successful than I am that it's insulting for me to even make a comparison that ends in his favor.  In fact, I think I have to retract the "plane" analogy.  He's scaling a redwood in California while I'm floundering around the mouth of the Mariana Trench.  And, no, he's not directly speaking to me here.  I've not done a podcast.  I don't have a YouTube channel.  My Twitter feed is not that hilarious.  And, as already mentioned, I'm not a comedian and the things that are useful for up-and-coming comedians aren't necessarily useful for me (though there is some overlap). 

That said, it hits home.  I've covered this previously when talking about my decision to self-publish.  More generally, it's about the niche-ification of pop culture as a whole.  Closer to home, it's about publishers having a harder go of it than they'd gotten used to and there's not a lot of reason to suspect the good times will return.  Not exactly as they were, anyway.  And as with everything else do to with the wrecking ball that is the Internet, this is simultaneously depressing and hope-inspiring. 

In deciding to self-publish, I accepted that my dreams of glory quitting my job to write full-time may be just that: a dream.  I tested my mettle against the gatekeepers and wound up on the same side from which I started.  That's not to say I'll never try again.  Or that some kindly gatekeeper won't give me another shot--a vanishingly small possibility, that one.  The end of "luck" that Oswalt speaks of is a little overblown; there's always a pinch of luck in any successful (or unsuccessful) venture.  But luck is a smaller part of the equation than it used to be.  Or, at least, luck's focus has shifted and the concept of "being given" opportunities doesn't mean what it used to.  The odds of my being magically transported into Writer-dom's Great Beyond are dimmer than they might have been ten-to-fifteen years ago.  And I'm fine with that.

Nos Populus has sold a few copies.  That means a few people have been interested enough to check it out and that they've absorbed at least some of what I had to say there, if I did my job right.  And that may not be humbling in the way that a few thousand readers might be, but it's pretty cool nonetheless.  It's not about money.  It can't be.  I'd drive myself mad if it were.

This blog is getting strong, mostly-steady readership.  I don't know why my stats say that I'm especially popular in Russia, but who am I to complain?  Thanks for the support, Russia!  And if a few people like what I have to say here on THDS, that's also pretty bloody fantastic.

The Internet requires everyone to shift their expectations.  There will still be superstars whose success stories fuel writers all around the globe, most of whom will never taste that kind of notoriety.  But those who believe in what they do and who genuinely love doing it will persist.  Because they want to make it and know that they can.  Because they know that writing--done well--is its own reward.  The impetus will be both.

If all I ever amount to is a decently read blogger with a miniature cult-following in Russia and a couple dozen book sales to his name then, well, this is a damn fun hobby.

Today in "This Happened"

There's a man in Russia named I.V. Pugach.  Here is a picture of Mr. Pugach:

The first thing you probably noticed about Pugach was his striking facial hair.  He'd be happy to hear that.  See, Pugach is very proud of that facial hair.  How proud?  So proud that he has apparently trademarked that particular style, the kind "with no sideburns that covers just the chin and the patch above the upper lip."  In America, we call that a "goatee," or a "van Dyke" or... well, there are a lot of names for it.  And a lot of individual styles fall within that larger goatee family; having the mouth to work around allows for a surprising amount of variety on a relatively small palate.  And it's gone in and out of style over the years--the nineties were really big for the goatee, and you still see them from time to time. 

But back to Pugach.  He's trademarked his goatee and anyone who wants one requires a license that costs in the neighborhood of $600/year for most people.  There's a higher rate for celebrities.  And in case you thought this guy was just having a bit of fun, he has a website, too.  I can't read Russian, but I understand that it's largely a series of rants (in big black and occasionally red font--red is how you know someone is serious) about people misappropriating the goatee.  Among the miscreants rank world leaders, foreign monarchs (including the Kings of France and Egypt... apparently), clergymen, actors, popular musicians (the nineties never really ended for a certain variety of pop star), and others.

He's even issued a "reprimand" to President Obama for not killing Muammar Gaddafi sooner (just go with it), as Gaddafi was among the most notorious pretenders to the throne within Mr. Pugach's Goatee Empire.  Closer to home, Pugach managed to get a prominent Russian mathematician barred from leaving the country until he paid up for his own goatee, upon a court's order.  Yes, Pugach's trademark has the full and complete backing of the law.  This despite the fact that the mathematician's facial hair isn't actually a goatee, demonstrating that not even Russian courts can agree on what constitutes a goatee. 

Now, I'm not a fan of the goatee.  My stance is a pretty firm "Nine-year-olds grow goatees.  Men grow beards."   But this kinda makes me want to shave off the sides of my ginger-beard and resurrect the embarrassing goatee of my early college days.  No, I'll go one better: I want to start a worldwide Free the Goatee Movement.  An International Growing of the Goat, if you will.  Just for the benefit of Mr. Pugach. 

One more thing: according to the blog's stats, I have some readers in Russia.  So, to those readers, I'd like to say, firstly: "Hi, Russia.  Thanks for reading."  Second: "What is this guy's deal?"  Third: "You want to join my movement?"