Unleash your Inner Lizard

It should come as no surprise that I’m on a major Stones kick at the moment (get used to it...it’s going to be going on for over a month), so I’ve been posting a Stones song on Facebook once in a while. The other day, I posted “Paint It, Black,” and said that was my second favorite Stones song. My friend Holly said that her favorite is “Shattered” (that is my third favorite Stones song, for the record) and it brings out her “inner lizard.”

That phrase spoke to me. It somehow perfectly describes that sort of down and dirty, raunchy, hip-swivelin’ Stones style. When the Inner Lizard comes out, shit gets real.

You know those ‘would you rather’ questions? Like “Ginger or Mary Ann?” One of the classics is “Beatles or Stones?” Of course I love the Beatles. Who doesn’t? They were my first taste of pop music, when I was maybe 5 or 6, and my Beatlemaniac sister played her records for me. But for me, it was always about the Stones. They always had a darker edge, a more dangerous, bad boy sex appeal. I was listening to their latest greatest hits CD, “Grrr!” while I was working out today, and it struck me just how many of their songs unleash my inner lizard. There is something about Mick’s voice that reaches right into the dark corners of my psyche. It ranges from a deep baritone to a raspy growl to a bedroom whisper that “it’s only rock and roll but I liiiiike it.” He’s really not even subtle about it. What part of “Let’s spend the night together” needs clarification?

Anyway, make all the jokes you want about the Stones being older than dirt, but these songs still totally trip my trigger. Young Mick Jagger was a beautiful, angelic devil (Anne Rice’s phrase for Lestat springs to mind: Brat Prince.), one who could seduce, incite, and inflame. The songs will continue to do that long after he is gone.

Of course, the Stones don’t have the market cornered on rock and roll sexyfuntimes. Remember how John Lithgow told his town that there would be no dancing because it would lead to sexyfuntimes, and Kevin Bacon was all like “Yo, dick move, bro, and I’m bangin’ your daughter” and danced all crazy around a barn and rode a tractor and then everyone made up and wore ugly tuxedos and danced all crazy some more? Anyway, John Lithgow and all those other preachermen who said that rock and roll led to “other things” weren’t so far off the mark.

Because the lyrics make you think about a lot of things. Not just sexyfuntimes, but things like inequality and revolution. Deeper concepts of the human condition. Life outside your small town. “Imagine no religion.” Experimentation, broadening your horizons, walking a mile in someone’s shoes, seeing beyond the narrow borders of your early existence. There are some people who don’t want these questions asked, and they certainly don’t want to have to answer them. How you gonna keep ‘em down on the farm, right?

Rock and roll IS dangerous. Dangerous to the status quo, dangerous to those who have a vested interest in keeping you in line, dangerous to the powers-that-be.

Once that Inner Lizard is unleashed, it’s hard to get it back under control.

A sad validation

Usually when I write about something and it is subsequently confirmed, I'm pretty happy about that. I have even been known to do a little victory dance, which consists of some knee wiggling, finger wagging, and phrases like "Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" and "What did I say?!" But I generally break that out only in fun circumstances, like winning a big game, or some sort of political victory. (Repeal of DADT! Oh yeah! Oh yeah! What did I say?!)

Although my previous entry about passing along your own bitterness to others has been confirmed in a big way, I feel no sense of elation or victory. I simply feel saddened and disgusted.

It's bad enough to encounter someone who is so angry and bitter about past events that they are simply unable to function on a reasonable level; someone so twisted and unwell that they cannot maintain normal and healthy relationships, whether in a personal or business situation. A person so vile that they leave people, even years later, ruing the day that they met them, feeling that they have been touched by a genuinely disturbed individual. When I encounter someone like that, I feel as though I've been slimed. Sometimes it even makes me shudder to think of such past associations. (In some cases, I find that I've even blocked such things from my memory. I’ve recently remembered a few things about my first marriage that I had apparently repressed for years. I guess that hearing that your spouse thinks you're possessed by a demon is a tad bit traumatic. Who knew?)

But yeah, encountering a person like that is bad enough. You know what is worse? When that person passes along their charming little neuroses and/or psychoses to others. To the point where others use some of the exact phrases. To the point where they wish the death of those that are hated. A slow, painful death.

Wow. What a legacy to leave behind. Rather than fostering good will and bringing joy to others, your actions bring hatred and discord. In your own abject failure and misery, you find happiness in sharing the misery with others, even those who should never be subjected to hearing such hatred. Instead of healthy relationships, you pass along the recipe for further failure, because you are incapable of setting a good example. Every friendship, every relationship, sometimes even casual encounters, ends up on the trash heap of your life. As Mick sings in "Shattered," "Pile it up...pile it up...pile it high on the platter." And instead of stopping the hatred with you, you pass it on. You can't help yourself.

You live your life by manipulating others and by intimidation. You get what you want by bullying and threatening, and when people don't behave in the way you expect them to, you viciously turn on them. You try this with everyone, and you always eventually fail. People always wise up and realize when they're being manipulated, and they despise you for it. Time after time after time. And you never seem to figure out that the problem isn't everyone else...it's YOU. All of us experience failure in our lives, all of us have relationships and friendships that didn't stand the test of time. But most of us have some that have lasted, and most of us manage to maintain friendly relationships with coworkers, neighbors, and family members. We thrive on harmony rather than discord. When all of your relationships are predicated upon a common hatred, you've got a problem.

And when you pass that hatred along to others, you are contributing not only to further discord, but you are creating another neurotic individual full of fear and animosity. Just like you.

I may never have been a mom, but even I know that is fucked up.

Shadoobee.