Once Aryan Skynet Goes Live It Doesn't Matter Who Pulled The Switch
So let Don walk you through Lou’s ((((New York)))):
“Romeo Had Juliet” is the lead-off track and offers a snapshot of multiracial life in a declining New York City. The entire album is thematically centered around the city, using it as the foundation for Lou’s characters and lyrical rants. We immediately meet the tragic miscegenating duo of Romeo Rodriguez (Puerto Rican?) and Juliette Bell (English surname = White), whose love, crudely expressed in sexually explicit terms, holds them together in the face of a crime-ridden city “sinking like a rock” with its “filthy Hudson,” “crack dealers,” and troublesome … “Italians”. Interestingly, the tableau begins with a reference to Columbus, a subtle indictment perhaps of the explorer and subsequent settlement by Whites of New York, the originator of the urban mess Lou loves and hates. Furthermore, the first anti-Christian note is sung, when our anti-hero Romeo “curses Jesus” for the unfair guilt he feels burdened with for sex outside marriage. Finally, the narrator celebrates the death of a cop by “dancing when his brains ran out on the street.” Is this an amoral allusion or are we to feel that the cop deserved it? Let’s look at the rest of the album first, but suffice it to say that I think Lou would be a supporter of Black Lives Matter and a friend of DeRay if he were alive today.
“Halloween Parade” is a non-judgmental rundown of various costumed Manhattanites celebrating the holiday while Lou laments the absence of his old girlfriend. Prostitutes party alongside a “black Jamaican stud,” a bizarrely eroticizing reference of no apparent significance. Lou’s only problem with the debauchery is that his girlfriend isn’t with him to soak up the enrichment like previous years.
“Dirty Boulevard” follows – this was the single. This is the track that inaugurates the feeling of deep bitterness that runs throughout the rest of the album like a nasty cold sore. First, we meet yet another “Hispanic,” this one named Pedro who lives in a squalid apartment and is abused by his father. We are led to believe it is an immigrant family (9 kids! – Nice attention to detail, Lou). His family is getting screwed by the landlord (don’t worry, no mention of the landlord’s ethnicity) and he has no future besides a life of crime and selling drugs on the boulevard. Then Lou gives his listeners a punch to the gut of hyperbolic pathos:
Give me your hungry, your tired your poor I’ll piss on ’em
that’s what the Statue of Bigotry says
Your poor huddled masses, let’s club ’em to death
and get it over with and just dump ’em on the boulevard
The hate-filled racists bring all these poor non-White people in and then racistly keep them down! Lou loved his “Statue of Bigotry” line so much he uses it again in another song.
“Endless Cycle” offers a negative critique of marriage: abusive couples beget abusive kids who get married and in turn abuse more kids. To hell with marriage.
“There’s No Time” is an anthemic manifesto that a communist or antifa could very well raise his (or her/its) skinny fists to. It decries “political speech,” “learned speech,” “saluting flags” and the crime of ignoring “Hate.” Lou thinks it’s high time for “action.” He deplores numbskull patriotism, which Don can get behind, if not exactly for his reasons: “This is no time for my country Right or Wrong, remember what that brought.” Lou the millionaire says there’s even “no time for private gain.” It’s all about the collective. Which collective though? Lou wants the crack smokers for his revolution; he urges them to put down their vials and “take dead aim and attack.”
By this point, we are marching with the Red Guards ready to tear down institutional inequality and racism. But we need minority allies as all good communists know. So where does Lou look? Why, American Indians, Ke-mo sah-bee. “Last Great American Whale” weaves an Indian-inspired creation myth of a great whale into a full-blown Helter Skelter race war. It begins with the tale of an Indian chief who has been on death row since 1958 for murder. He’s actually not a bad guy though because he only deservedly killed the mayor’s racist son: “The mayor’s kid was a rowdy pig, spit on Indians and lots worse” (wedgies too?). The tribe consequently gathers in a lighthouse and conjures up the Great American Whale to dispense some righteous justice on behalf of oppressed POCs. It bursts forth from the stormy sea and “the whites were drowned, the browns and reds set free.” Genocide the Whites, everything will be cool – the wisdom of Rabbi Lou. But alas, it doesn’t end on a happy note because a “local yokel member of the NRA” slaughters the whale with a bazooka blast. That goddamned 2nd Amendment! After the denouement, Lou condemns White America in the strongest terms: they spoil nature (presumably unlike the harmoniously living Indians) and have no care for “human” or “animal life”; hell, they don’t “care for much of anything.” These barbarians even “shit in a river” which is something you will never see a Hindu or African do. All this injustice and cruelty Lou reminds us is for the “majority” (i.e. Whites). This song would really speak to Tim (((Wise))). I hope it’s his entry music for when he wrestles Richard Spencer.
The next song, “The Beginning of a Great Adventure” is the funniest. Lou never had children (how could you condemn them to this racist country?!) but fantasizes about being a parent in this song. Lou imagines molding his children into ideological warriors for vengeance and social justice and unleashes spit-flecked vitriol at devilish White children: “I’d breed a little liberal army in the wood. Just like these redneck lunatics I see at the local bar with their tribe of mutant inbred piglets with cloven hooves.” The highly inbred Jews always project. But Lou will have himself a small brood of anti-hunter neo-Weathermen: “I’d teach ’em how to plant a bomb, start a fire, play guitar, and if they catch a hunter, shoot him in the nuts. I’d try to be as progressive as I could possibly be (!).” Funnily enough, he lists potential names for his kids and includes his good buddy Bono’s name. However, in a later song, “Strawman,” he asks if “anybody else needs another self-righteous rock singer?”
“Busload of Faith” implores for an ill-defined “faith,” while rejecting an undependable God and worthless churches (no mention of worthless synagogues, mysteriously). Even if you have “faith”, though, Lou reassures us that the “worst will always happen.” He illustrates this with a rape victim who aborts her baby and is harassed by “pro-lifers,” who “attack her with rage.” You’re getting the picture by now; all the conventional enemies: Christians, Whites, right-wingers.
“Sick of You” is an absurdist take on the state of America and ratchets up the bitterness when you thought that was hardly possible at this stage. Lyrics detail the general degradation and injustice of White America. Rednecks feel Lou’s wrath again even though he seemingly would have some political agreement with them since he bemoans the Japs buying up New York. The other three-letter group that starts with a J and happen to be real estate mavens escape Lou’s notice, naturally. Warming up to his Jewish selfhood, he echoes the decades-long anti-Iran fearmongering and hardball ethnic politics of his tribe and calls out the Ayatollah for finally acquiring a “nuclear warhead” that Netanyahu and “war on terror” propagators have said is imminent since this writer can remember. Finally, NASA put Whitey on the moon and now Lou guesses they will probably just blow it up. He’s sick of the Ice Wizards!
“Hold On” paints a picture of a city riven by racial strife: “There’s Blacks with knives and Whites with clubs, fighting in Howard Beach. There’s no such thing as human rights, when you walk the N.Y. streets.” This song may be the best on the album and is a forthright acknowledgement of the problems of multiracialism. He thankfully doesn’t moralistically frame the combatants into good guys versus bad guys. The view of the future is bleak and he repeatedly warns us to “hold on.” Bernard Goetz is mentioned but we don’t get Jewish solidarity from Lou in this instance. Lou suggests he only got off due to a “mafia lawyer,” implying the gun-toting subway rider ought to be in prison.
In “Good Evening Mr. Waldheim”, Lou fully realizes the embattled, neurotic, vengeful Jewish consciousness that has so plagued the Western world. Lou takes on three “enemies” du jour for the Jews: Pope John Paul II, Kurt Waldheim (former UN Secretary General and President of Austria), and Jesse Jackson. Because Waldheim was Austrian and served in the Wehrmacht as an intelligence officer in Greece during World War II (or, as Arnold Leese dubbed it, the Jewish War of Survival), he came under heavy fire from the World Jewish Congress and allied associations and inveterate liar and self-proclaimed “Nazi hunter” Simon Wiesenthal. He apparently did get caught in a lie but Jews tried to position him as an essential coordinator for rides to the Auschwitz “death camp” for innocent Jews in Greece. He was later cleared of all “war crimes” allegations. Former Mossad officer Victor Ostrovsky discussed this in his book The Other Side of Deception. He claimed that Mossad doctored the file of the then UN Secretary General to implicate him in Nazi crimes. These allegedly false documents were subsequently “discovered” by Benjamin Netanyahu in the UN file and triggered the “Waldheim Affair”. Ostrovsky says it was motivated by Waldheim’s criticism of Israel’s war in Lebanon. Furthermore, the affair looks like it might have been part of a coordinated shakedown of Austria. At any rate, being an “enemy” of the Jews, he became Lou’s enemy. Lou recounts Waldheim’s meeting with the Pope, an infamy Lou felt artistically obligated to confront so that the Jews would “never forget.” This is Lou’s beef with the Pontiff. Notwithstanding the title, most of the lyrics deal with the treacherous Negro Jesse Jackson whose “anti-Semitism” caught the ire of Jews and hence Lou. Lou doesn’t mention Jackson’s infamous “Hymietown” comment though. He is disgusted that the good Reverend would meet with Arafat, the official representative of the PLO, the UN-recognized body representing the Palestinians at the time. We’re not talking Hamas here or another radical group; the PLO had stepped over the line and as far as Lou was concerned Jesse was getting uppity and guilty of forgetting his tribe’s momentous efforts on behalf of his people: “Jesse you say Common Ground, does that include the PLO? What about people right here right now, who fought for you not so long ago? … Remember those civil rights workers buried in the ground.” He also chastises Jesse for his associations with Farrakhan, who Lou equates with the “Klan”.
“Xmas in February” is a song about Vietnam War veterans. Not very interesting aside from the fact that Lou equated their horrors and degradation with that unfortunate time of the year, “Xmas.”
On “Strawman”, Lou again denounces the White man’s frivolous pursuit of space exploration. Christian hypocrisy also gets targeted by ironically taking on a strawman, corrupt televangelist pervert Jimmy Swaggart. Lou reminds America as well that it doesn’t “need another racist preacher.” Jewish supremacist rabbis escape denunciation, though, and are inferentially acceptable.
The final song of New York is “Dime Store Mystery”. What better way to end the tirade than to criticize the foundation of the modern West, the root of all the injustice, racism, and anti-Semitism: Christianity? The attitude here is more philosophical rather than polemical and at least wisely closes out the work without any petulant finger-pointing. Lou considers Jesus on the cross and finds it “easy to believe, that he might question his beliefs.”
The album is amusing, nauseating, and offers a peculiar insight into an aging Jew whose best work was over with and is embracing his unfortunate ethnic identity and its attendant petty hatreds in the last year of the Reagan decade. Musically it’s primitive, repetitive, and the instrumentation secondary, mainly serving as a vehicle for narration. I would recommend this album to screeching progressives and the Sarah Silvermans of the world.