It’s not about being “politically correct,” which is usually another way of saying “trying to be considerate of other people”: it’s about not throwing rocks when I don’t have to.
So I am going to talk about a word that relates directly to me, and is thus a word that I can use without bringing about any lectures that I actually need to listen to. (And sometimes those lectures are necessary! When I don’t know that a word I’m using is hurtful, I genuinely want to be told! Just…not necessarily on Tumblr, where one lecture turns into thirty, all public, some a little performative. If it’s a first offense, I’m much happier receiving an email.) The word is “crazy.”
I have OCD. I was diagnosed when I was nine. I am also, to put it charitably, weird as hell. I grew up being called “crazy,” and also being called “OCD,” and one of them was diagnostic, and both of them were mine. Fake as it might sound, I genuinely never considered, not even once, that “crazy” might be considered hurtful or ableist.
Now, I know that this is now one of those things that Everybody Knows, but I swear, and I have no reason to lie here, that I did not know. People called me crazy; I thought of myself as crazy; I did not consider it to be connected to my actual neuroatypicality. And it’s a fun word to say! It has a “z” and a “y” and it feels good in my mouth, and so I said it a lot. And when I wrote books, my characters used it a lot. And because I wrote my first several books very fast, it wasn’t until Late Eclipses came out–the fourth Toby book, which means the first two Newsflesh books were also out–that anyone said to me “this word is hurtful.”
Again, I know that sounds fake, because of where the conversation has gone, and how much more most of us know now about ableist language. But I have no reason to lie, and if you were to really deep-dive into my social media, you could probably find me, in 2011, being stunned and confused by this information.
Am I bothered by “crazy”? No. It’s my word. But here’s the thing: it doesn’t matter if it bothers me. I want to tell people unsafe stories. I want to tell stories that will sometimes have teeth, that will bite and claw and tear. And I want people to trust me while I’m doing it. I want them to follow me into the woods and know that I’m going to get them out the other side. That means that when I throw textual rocks, when I am aiming to cause pain, it should be intentional.
I am not a “safe space” in the sense of “everything here will have padded edges, it will comfort and not harm.” But I am also not in the habit of throwing rocks wildly, acting like any pain means I have succeeded at my job. Anyone can scream random words. Choosing words and making them do what I want is much more effective.
As for whether my characters get to say words that I, personally, have reduced or removed from my vocabulary, that depends on the characters. Like Shaun Mason, in the Newsflesh series, calls himself crazy. There’s no other word he’d use; it fits his character. But Toby Daye, who has clinical depression, doesn’t describe herself that way. In her case, I can find other words that work just as well, and don’t become rocks when I don’t want to throw them.
There’s no censorship here. The government is not forcing me to do anything. There’s just me, doing my best to not be an asshole, and only to throw rocks when I actually mean it.
Ankle monitors are billed as a humane alternative to incarceration,
allowing people who might otherwise be locked up to be reintegrated into
the community.
But as activists James Kilgore (Understanding Mass Incarceration) and Emmett Sanders (Challenging E-Carceration)
write, the reality of ankle monitors is that they are often used to
impose additional monitoring on the kinds of people who were always
going to be allowed out of jail, with particularly bad effects on poor
people, who are billed for their own monitoring services (an expense
that sometimes includes buying a landline – and for some sex offenders,
ankle-monitors are a lifelong obligation).
Ankle monitors don’t just work badly, they fail badly, too: if the
ankle-monitor loses its signal, the person obliged to wear it can end up
back behind bars. Worse still is what happens when a monitor-wearer is
injured or ill: they are expected to leave their monitors on, even if it
means doctors can’t treat their wounds, and monitors are required even
while you’re undergoing surgery.
Finally, there’s the question of the data these things collect on their
wearers: it’s retained for years, or maybe forever, and no one knows who
it’s shared with.
Alabama were, without question, the biggest country artists of the 1980s. They were the #1 country artists for singles & albums combined, according to Billboard, in 1983-85, and were #2 in ‘81, ‘82, and ‘86. They had the #1 country album of the year twice in the decade, and twice they placed three albums in the year’s top 10. And of 29 singles they charted on Billboard’s Hot Country Singles in the 1980s, a full 27 of those hit #1, including, at one point, 21 in a row. That’s insane. That kind of dominance is MJ-with-the-Bulls levels of crazy. But. Alabama only (“only”) placed in the year-end artist top 10 from 1981-89. There’s one artist who placed in the top 10 every single year of the decade, as high as #2 (in 1984) and never lower than #8 (‘89). Said artist also charted 29 singles through the decade, with all but three making the top 10, including eight #1s. And at one point in the 1982, he had eight albums on the Top Country Albums chart, simultaneously. Let that sink in for just a second: at the time, the chart only had 75 positions, and he had 8 of them, or almost a full 11% of the chart. That’s domination.
Said artist is Hank Williams, Jr. – and he accomplished all of these feats without even remotely crossing over to a pop (non-country) audience. His highest-charting album on the pop album chart during this stretch was 1987’s Born to Boogie, which made it to #28. And his only appearances on the Hot 100 were way back in 1964, when he was essentially performing Hank Williams, Sr. karaoke.
I’m fascinated by Hank Jr. because he was so dominant, and simultaneously (albeit increasingly as the years have gone on) so problematic. As time has worn on, he’s become increasingly, loudly xenophobic, racist, misogynist, and homophobic. There were flickers of this at his commercial peak in the ‘80s (as I’ll discuss), but nothing near what they’ve become now. But he can’t just be dismissed, because he was also hugely influential – but sadly, much of that influence seems to have been swept under the rug thanks to his ugly politics. (The best accounting of his influence, and its confluence with his problematicism, can be found in my friend David Cantwell’s New Yorker profile of Jr. from 2 years ago; consider it your homework for this week.) And on top of that, not only was he incredibly popular and influential; Hank Jr. was also one of the finest country artists the ‘80s had to offer, synthesizing all sorts of musics into his country. He could do blues, he could do ragtime, he could get jazzy, and his sweetest spot was Southern/country-rock of the Lynyrd Skynyrd variety.
Today the Country Music Hall of Fame announced their 2018 slate of inductees, and many think thought this could finally be Jr.’s year. Others feel that, thanks to his history of public bigotry, he may never get into the Hall until after his death. Criminally, he was left on the outside looking in yet again. What no one can dispute, however, is that he belongs there, just as much as his Daddy before him. Over the course of the next week-plus, my mission is to show you what makes/made him great and just why he should be considered part of the country music pantheon, focusing on (but not limited to) his prime decade, the 1980s, of which he was the indisputable country king.
As for me, I’m Thomas Inskeep, a popular music critic in my late 40s, who’s been sharing my thoughts on music since I first wrote, way back in 8th grade, for Pages by Pages, my junior high newspaper (shout out to Manchester Junior High School in North Manchester, IN, my hometown). I’m a native Hoosier and former radio DJ who’s been a Californian for almost 15 years, and just to make things that much more problematic around my love of Hank, Jr.’s work, I’m also a queer man. I was a Staff Writer for Stylus Magazine back in 2005-07 (RIP), have written for Seattle Weekly and SPIN, and presented at the 2016 Pop Conference (on Hall & Oates, in case you’re interested). I also write and am a selector for The Singles Jukebox, and I blog semi-regularly at Oh Manchester, So Much to Answer For, my blog home since 2002.
Contrary to popular belief, including the student in the IEP process is important and has several benefits – especially in the emphasis on self-determination and autonomy.
I realize I’m 2 years late to this, but I’m just now digging in and trying to understand the full effects of Brexit, and it’s truly astonishing. I knew it would have the usual protectionist effects like higher prices and whatnot, but there’s a not improbable chance Britain runs out of food. They’re scrambling to make sure planes will still have access to the country. Important scientific research is stalling because British scientists can’t secure funding. And I’m still not sure what the argument for it is except something about regulations and telling your Polish maid she’s not wanted.
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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