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No, I didn’t see it. But by now even TV-free traditionalists have
gotten wind of the little stunt pulled by pop music stars Janet
Jackson and Justin Timberlake during the halftime show at this
year’s Super Bowl (American football’s championship game). The sheer
tawdriness of the incident prompted us initially to question whether
it should be mentioned at all here in The Remnant. But, even as Lot
and his family must have been painfully aware of similar goings on
in Sodom, we’re more or less obliged, as was Lot, no doubt, to
comment on things unmentionable in civilized society.
The fact that this year’s halftime extravaganza included a man and
woman cavorting about on stage is nothing new. It’s unlikely that it
would have elicited much of a reaction at all had the show not
culminated with a brief display of partial nudity that was
“accidentally” broadcast around the world. (Funny, but when a crazed
fan runs out on the playing field during a football game, the NFL
cameras are instantly switched so that images of the fan are never
broadcast. This is done to discourage copycats. Why the technology
failed during the halftime show is puzzling. Hmmm…)
At any rate, while the major media have been having a field day with
Janet Jackson’s overexposure, our reaction to it can be summed up
with one, short question: What’s the big deal? Was that fleeting
flash of flesh the thing that caused the vile performance to dip
below CBS’s moral waterline? What kind of reverse Jansenism is that?
The halftime song and dance routine (produced by the notorious MTV
included the lyric “I’m going to get you naked before the end of
this song”) had by all reports plunged into the moral toilette long
before any skin had been exposed. The little stunt, in fact, seemed
little more than Michael Jackson’s aging sister’s pathetic effort to
imitate her lunatic brother and shock the world into reviving her
sagging career. We agree with Daniel Henninger’s Wall Street Journal
suggestion that “the entire Jackson family should be launched into
outer space.” (Feb 6, 2004, WSJ)
But, tempting as it may be to simply dismiss MTV’s gutter peepshows,
the fact remains that things lying in gutters tend to be toxic, and
so-called Hip-Hop entertainment is no exception. Hip-Hop is more
than just “music”. It’s a street culture that emerged from the Bronx
and Harlem in the late 1970s. Aside from transforming graffiti (“graf”)
into an American art form, it also launched several different
strains of pop musical expression, including rap, R&B and
breakdancing.
Today’s Hip-Hop “artists”, perhaps more than all the liturgists in
the modern Church, represent a serious threat to traditional
Catholic families. Our Lady of Fatima told little Jacinta that “more
souls go to hell because of sins of the flesh than for any other
reason.” If this was true in 1920 one can only imagine how it
applies today. One wonders when Catholics will begin to take the pop
culture threat seriously. The Super Bowl halftime show wasn’t
performed by Ozzy or KISS or Marilyn Manson or some satanic freak
trying to bite heads off bats. No, this was so Top 40— N’Sync’s
“innocent” little Justin and charming Penny from TV’s Good Times.
If there’s a positive thing that can be taken away from the stunt,
perhaps it’s this: Catholic parents might finally begin to get an
inkling of just how deep mainstream pop music has sunk into the
cesspool.
The Mass vs. the
Masses For many traditional Catholic teenagers Super
Bowl Sunday included two events: the Tridentine Mass and the Game.
They went to Mass in the morning and watched the Game in the
afternoon. During halftime they saw a fornicator and a harlot
cavorting on a stage, while the roaring masses screamed their
approval. Moments later and in front of millions around the world,
the fornicator ripped the harlot’s shirt open.
Now, which of the two Super Bowl Sunday highlights do you suppose
Johnny Traditionalist will remember five years from now? Oh, yes, I
know, “it’s the Mass that matters,” and Johnny went to Mass that
day. But we mustn’t treat the Mass like some magical shield that
will automatically preserve innocence even after days and years of
self-inflicted exposure to these dog and pony shows from hell that
are regularly broadcast over our airwaves. If the Mass failed to
stall the advance of the sexual revolution in the 1960s, what
prompts us to imagine that it will save Hip-Hoppin’ Johnny
Traditionalist today?
Only a fool would ignore that Trojan horse which rolled into a
nominally Christian society fifty years ago and proceeded to blow
decency to kingdom come. The new music was from its inception in
1954 saturated with sex and rebellion. And who knows what part it
played as diplomatic liaison between the liturgical revolutionaries
and Catholics in the pews.
The grand revolution of the 1960s involved two fronts: one cultural
and one liturgical/ecclesiastical. It is no coincidence that they
took place almost simultaneously, for the liturgical offensive would
not have advanced so easily, in my opinion, were it not for the
pulsating beat of the new music which signaled that the cultural
“reservists” were deployed and ready for action. The New Mass was,
let’s face it, a concoction of the ecclesiastical counterparts to
the Hippies. By the late 1960s the old Mass seemed passé to
everyone, even popes. It had to go. Bye-bye Miss American Pie. On
the cultural front, the powerful new music was steadily propelling a
youth uprising against purity, innocence and family life.
Marketers have long admitted that sex sells, but even they couldn’t
have predicted just how true that slogan would become in the music
industry. For pop music moguls today it doesn’t matter if “artists”
can sing or play an instrument at all; sex appeal is the name of
their game. Thanks to them, several sex-hooked generations have
drunk deeply from the wells of hedonism; they’ve developed a taste
for it and, like vampires in perpetual search of blood, can never be
satisfied. Ergo, “sex sells” now more than ever, as it must feed a
global addiction. The industry sells sex and the kids are addicted
to sex. It’s a marketer’s dream. Millions of dollars are found while
millions of souls are lost. Oh well, it’s just the kids’ music!
Hip-Hop especially is marked by moral and spiritual suicidal
tendencies; it’s preoccupied with promiscuity (the death of the
soul) and violence (the death of the body), even having its own
martyrs such as Tupac Shakur and Big E who were gunned down in the
street by rival “gangstas” and who are now part of the sacred lore
of the Hip-Hop religion.
Gods of Wasteland For almost four decades traditional
Catholic writers in The Remnant have been banging the drum against
the rock subculture, and for much of that time we’ve been told that
we need to “lighten up.” Especially after the publication of our
book “Gods of Wasteland: Fifty Years of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” we were
called “reactionary” and even “Jansenist” by one or two of our
intellectual friends who, by the way, are probably still walking
around with their heads in the clouds, waxing rhapsodic about
liturgical “preferences” and putting everyone to sleep. I very much
respect and appreciate true intellectuals, but I must say that, when
it comes to the cultural question, some of these good fellows have
been snoozing at the wheel.
Traditionalist teens today are up against incredible odds and, as
they come of age, many are opting out of active service in this
Catholic counterrevolution altogether, even after years of
homeschooling and weekly Tridentine Mass attendance. This year’s
Super Bowl shed some light on why: traditionalist teens, like all
teens, are literally being overpowered by the pop culture. Punks and
rock ‘n’ rollers have stormed the gates and seized the seats of
power and influence once reserved for saints and churchmen. And the
Church of Vatican II? Ha! It no longer possesses a moral voice at
all, let alone adequate moral fiber and authority to rout the
modern-day Vandals of the pop culture. I mean, c’mon, would you be
inspired by Father Barry Manilow? The emasculated priests and the PC
Church have delivered a frightening decree of surrender to the pop
culture: “If you can’t lick ’em, you gotta join ’em.” And, so, while
R&B singers (Lauren Hill), rock stars (Bob Dylan) and breakdancers
entertain the pope and the curial cardinals inside the Vatican, the
vast majority of Catholic teens grow increasingly nonplused. One by
one they follow that Pied Piper out of the Church and into the
darkest deserts of nowhere land. No “World Youth Day” they’ve ever
seen can compare to Britney Spears!
It seems that after all these years John Lennon was right—pop
music’s gods are more popular than Jesus and Christianity is going.
But when John Lennon took his famous shot at Christianity years ago,
the Vatican demanded and received an apology from the front man of
the “world’s greatest rock ‘n’ roll band.” My, how times have
changed… exactly, come to think of it, as Bob Dylan predicted they
would. Today, when Janet Jackson spoils whatever remains of the
innocence of millions of ten-year-olds watching a football game with
Dad in the living room, nary a whimper of protest is heard from the
pathetic Vatican, the neutered chancery offices, or those puerile
pulpit puppets. After all, they’ve got their own little sex scandals
to worry about. Even if they did care enough to speak out against
Hip-Hop depravity, they’d hardly be operating from positions of
strength. The likes of Janet and Justin have little to fear from the
Catholic Church these days.
Still, faithful Catholics must do something. When considering all
those children on Super Bowl Sunday—when contemplating the innocence
lost, the little souls rocked, the little minds blown—perhaps we can
agree that enough’s enough. The NFL must pay some price (no matter
how small) for their globally televised child abuse. Perhaps
traditional Catholics might consider celebrating next year’s Super
Bowl by watching Heidi. (The reference
here is to the famous “Heidi Game” which took place in 1968 between
the Oakland Raiders and the New York Jets. NBC cut away from the
game, the outcome of which they assumed had been determined, when it
threatened to preempt their scheduled movie, Heidi. The Raiders came
back and beat the Jets in dramatic fashion in the last few seconds
of the game, causing fans such consternation that the tilt came to
be known as the “Heidi Game”.)
An Experiment
Traditionalist parents whose children have access to pop music may
wish to conduct an experiment. Ask your teenager for his impression
of the Janet Jackson stunt. Watch his reaction closely. He’ll
probably look at the floor and then tell Mom what she wants to hear:
“It was off the charts. She’s such an idiot!” He may even volunteer
a comment on “Janet the has-been”… but he won’t say much about the
indecency itself. Why? Because he’s probably not a hypocrite. When
compared to what he’s seen on MTV, VH1, BET and even dance floors on
prom night, Janet’s cry for attention at the Super Bowl was par for
the course! What’s taking place right now—especially in the Hip-Hop
world where Tupac is god, and Snoop Dog, Nelly, Lil’ Kim, Jackie O,
Sisqo and P. Diddy rule—makes it regrettable that over the years
we’ve all used hyperbolic words like “pornographic” to describe pop
music and its videos. Now it really is pornography! In recent months
the industry has crossed lines which make past manifestations of
rock/pop depravity appear mild. It’s enough to make David Bowie
blush!
Parents who are not paying attention to Hip-Hop, for example, have
no idea how wicked things have become. When I deliver lectures about
the pop culture, many assume that we’re still carping about Mick
Jagger or Jim Morrison. But nothing in the 60s, 70s or 80s (except,
perhaps, the pornography industry itself) can compare to what’s
going on now. The notorious Van Halen, for example, was only mildly
salacious compared to Hip-Hop’s newest superstar, Nelly, whose
latest video (for a “song” called “Tip Drill”) features blatant and
prolonged scenes of lesbian sex, barely blurred nudity, depravity
that I can not and will not describe, and a barrage of images
showing the “hottest” new dance craze which is apparently called
“booty poppin’.” (The Hip-Hop lexicon is here incomplete, since
evidently there’s some discrepancy among Hip-Hop wordsmiths over the
precise term). One thing’s for sure, though— it’s not the mashed
potato. It’s so raunchy and so destructive of innocence that it
frightened me when I saw it and brought tears to my eyes. It’s
performed by women wearing thongs and is pornographic in the literal
sense of that word. A few seconds viewing of a Hip-Hop video, in
other words, will destroy a child’s innocence forever.
Make no mistake— I’m not talking about some underground phenomenon.
This is Top 40! Walk into Target or Wal-Mart and take a look at the
fashions for teens—they’re dominated by Hip-Hop “shtreeet vibes”.
The days of the hair bands, heavy metal, grunge and even Madonna are
gone and passé. But Hip-Hop with its penchant for raw sexual abuse,
real gangland violence (between east and west coast rappers) and
grotesque self indulgence is mainstream and here to stay.
We’ve all seen the backwards baseball caps, the gaudy jewelry
(a.k.a. “ice”) for men, the huge oversized pants, the teenage
fascination with cell phones, the low-cut pants for girls, the
blacktop court shoes, the “shtreet jam” hand gestures and lingo—this
is all part of the Hip-Hop “thang” and, though it was born on the
streets of the ghettos and promotes blatant reverse racism, it’s
managed to take black and white middle class young people by storm,
annihilating both their self-respect and their moral compass.
After praying a few Hail Marys for fortitude take a look at BET
(Black Entertainment Television) or MTV and see for yourself— this
ain’t yo momma’s rock ‘n’ roll, believe me! But it’s so popular that
unless other musical acts can find some way to make a liaison with
Hip-Hop, they’ll have limited success. And so there are bevies of
white, black and Hispanic singers such as Christina Aguilera, Pink,
Eminem, Jennifer Lopez, Beyonce Knowles, Shakira and Britney Spears
“thugging” and “tarting” it up with the best of them just to keep
pace with the big gig in town—Hip-Hop. Dumbed-down, over sexed,
violent thuggery is “in”. “Whores,” “heifers” and “bitches” are how
the males refer to their girlfriends; young ladies refer to their
boyfriends as “players” and “pimps.” (No, I kid you not!) Sex is
their sport.
If traditional Catholic teenagers are listening to pop music, then
the chances are good that they know exactly what “bootylicious’” is,
who Snoop Dog is, precisely how Nelly degrades women in his X-rated
videos, what Sisqo is singing about in the “Thong Song”, what a “lap
dance” is, which “artists” used to be porn stars, etc. Oh, yes, he
knows all this and much more. It’s “his music,” after all, and this
is the stuff with which “his music” is preoccupied.
By the way, traditional Catholic parents should be patient with
their teenagers if, in fact, they’ve gotten mixed up in this.
They’ve been hit in the face with a barrage of gratuitous sex and
decadence that men living fifty years ago could have found only by
prowling seedy red-light districts in the dead of night. Now it’s
right there in the song lyrics, in the videos, on the internet, in
the schools, in your living room, and at your Super Bowl party.
And we wonder why our teens are beginning to lose a little of that
enthusiasm for the movement to restore the old Catholic Mass…
One might say that the only thing missing from Hip-Hop’s
round-the-clock orgy is Caligula himself, but this might not be fair
to Caligula. I’d say Pagan Romans had nothing on us when it comes to
junior high proms that feature manage-a-trois behavior on the dance
floor, when eleven-year-olds turn up pregnant, when condom use is
regarded as the virtue of responsible teens who are committed to
“safe sex”, and when children are encouraged by pop icons to
masturbate while leering at their friends’ mothers, as is the case
in Fountains of Wayne’s video “Stacy’s Mom,” the lyrics of which
include the following:
Stacy’s mom has
got it goin’ on
She’s all I want and I’ve waited for so long
Stacy, can’t you see you’re just not the girl
for me
I know it might be wrong but I’m in love with
Stacy’s mom
Stacy’s mom has got it goin’ on
Stacy’s mom has got it goin’ on
Fountains of Wayne (FOW), by the way, has been nominated for
several Grammy awards and the band appears regularly on mainstream
variety shows such as David Letterman and the Late Show with Craig
Kilborn (as was the case on February 5, 2004). Why are we losing
our kids today? Gee, I just can’t imagine….It must have something to
do with cigarettes. Call your congressman and demand more spending
on those smoking cessation programs in our schools! Yep, that’s the
ticket. Conclusion
Certainly, CBS, the NFL, Viacom and MTV need to hear our complaints
about Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake (the “innocent” N’Sync’s
lead singer whose Super Bowl antics demonstrate once again that
Catholic teens are much more likely to be led astray by the “good,
clean” pop stars then by shock-hounds like Marilyn Manson and Trent
Reznor). But, don’t fool yourself: If your teens are watching MTV or
blasting “their music” on their head sets or car radios, they really
weren’t as scandalized by the Super Bowl halftime show as they
pretended to be.
They’ve seen much worse, and, if they haven’t yet then they’ll see
it tonight or tomorrow night or the next time they flip on the
television. The Super Bowl stunt proved that no TV program is safe.
Satan’s the producer/director of the pop culture now, and the
solution for us does not lie in “finding the good stuff” in pop
music (Jason and Janet were the “good stuff” for the first half of
their careers!); the solution lies in following the dictum of St.
Paul: “Come out from among them and
be ye separate.”
Oh, yes, I know, it’s just the “kids’ music,” and we parents can
hardly be expected to say “no” to everything. Man, how many times
I’ve heard that rot! How many times mothers have sobbed: “We did
everything right: we homeschooled, we drove two hours every Sunday
to the Tridentine Mass where our little Johnny and Billy used to be
altar boys. Where’d we go wrong? It couldn’t have been their music.
That was just never a big deal.”
Never a big deal? Allowing pornographers, strip teasers, foulmouthed
harlots, pimps and abusive thugs to entertain the kiddies ‘round the
clock— not a big deal? For homeschool children, especially, the main
conduit to this nonstop cultural orgy has not been the television
(which is usually and rightly restricted or banned by good parents),
nor has it been public schools or even the Internet— it’s been the
pop music. And these days all the catechism classes and Latin Masses
in the world can’t compete with this powerful lyrical pornography
specifically marketed to impressionable and isolated teens during
their rebellious years. As long as we fail to recognize the real
enemy of our teenagers, we’ll go on losing this war for the soul of
our children while the future of the Catholic counterrevolution will
grow tenuous, to say the least.
Let me conclude on a personal note. I was raised in a traditional
Catholic family of nine children, each of whom is still practicing
the traditional Faith to this day and raising large families of
their own. My father and mother said “no” to a lot of things—to most
things, in fact (thank God!)— starting with rock/pop music, which
was summarily banned with no exceptions in my childhood home
(and this included Country and Christian rock!). What whacky
extremists those reactionary parents of mine were! I wonder why they
didn’t just lighten up. After all, it’s just music…
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