Newspaper Page Text
THE PROS TURN WEIRD
If the indictments against Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael
Vick and his associates are to be believed (and out of respect for
American jurisprudence we'll keep that "if" in place for now), the
worst of it isn't that they ran a vicious, bloody dogfighting opera
tion on Vick's property in Virginia. It isn't that they allegedly took
pitbull puppies out, gave them one chance to prove that they
were inherently mean enough to compete (ludicrous in itself, as
pit bulls aren't any meaner by nature than any other animal: it
takes human beings to teach them how to kill their own kind), and
then executed the puppies who wouldn't fight. It's not even the
methods used to kill the puppies, includ
ing drowning, skull-crushing, hanging and
electrocution, that are the worst.
The worst of it is that these weren't
Ozark mutant redneck trogs doing this
between batches of bathtub crystal meth,
but a full-fledged sports hero, one of the
few black quarterbacks in NFL history and
a legitimate phenomenon. It's Michael
freakin' Vick, Number 7, idol of millions.
Realistically, no one should subscribe any
more to the idea that sports figures should
be role models, not while Barry Bonds continues to lug his colossal
asterisk from ballpark to ballpark, but one would hope that upon
hitting the big time, one could find better ways of getting one's
kicks than snuffing animals.
Perhaps we've finally entered the era Hunter Thompson, Kurt
Vonnegut and William Burroughs were warning us about for de
cades, a time of High Weirdness and Bad Craziness. Star athletes
get indicted for torturing animals and shooting up nightclubs.
Suburban kids get tattooed like Maoris as a rite of passage—at the
ogi/es on IV for inconveniencing him. An entire subculture arises
consisting of people who have sex dressed as cartoon squirrels.
Entire evenings of prime-time network TV are devoted to ultimate
fighting and worm-eating and Howie Mandel.
If it seems sometimes like America is rolling over like a rotten
log, superstar comic-book writer Warren fllis (fransmetropolitan,
X-Men) is there to show us all the juicy bugs underneath in his de
but novel. Crooked Little Vein (HarperCollins, 2007). Part detective
novel, part travelogue, all freakshow, the novel is a darkly funny
and deeply disturbing field trip into worlds of fetishism and ex
treme behavior that may or may not actually exist, but easily could.
DEGENERATE AMERICA
Mike McGill is a down-and-out private eye in a section of
Manhattan Giuliani forgot to clean up, living out of his office since
his wife left him for another woman with nipple-hair implants, his
only companion a rat who refuses to die and pisses in his coffee.
He is quite possibly the unluckiest man alive, guaranteed to walk
into the worst scenario imaginable at every turn. He is, simply put,
a shit-magnet, which is why the heroin-addict White House Chief
of Staff chooses him to track down the Founding Fathers' hereto
fore unknown second U.S. Constitution,
the one bound in alien skin with frag
ments of a meteor in the spine, the one
with 23 new amendments that will save
America from itself:
"'The country has changed, Mike, year
by year, day by day. Look at what's on
television now. Look at the magazines and
newspapers. Look at what people put on
the Internet. These aren't hidden perver
sions, Mike. This isn't like Dr. Sawyer and
the collection of black men's tongues he
kept in that weird little house on the outskirts of town when I
was twelve. This is the mainstream now, Mike. This is how life in
America is. Moment by moment, our country has grown sicker. Our
borders, Mike, have come to encompass the nine circles of Hell.'"
Only the book will save us, except that the book has been
lost in the deep underbelly of Degenerate America, a fetish com
modity passed from one wealthy eccentric to the next. And while
these people can remain hidden from the government, Mike's
unholy karma draws him to them like a beacon. Given no choice
but to accept, Mike's off, stumbling blindly into
an American Heart of Darkness. He desperately
needs a guide, and at a meeting of Godzilla buk-
kake enthusiasts (you heard me), he finds one in
the beautiful Trix, a sleeve-tattooed grad student
writing her thesis on "extremes of self-inflicted
human experience." Mike hires her to be his
Sacagawea and together they cross the country,
meeting saline-injection junkies in Columbus and
silicon-injection junkies in Vegas, ritual cattle
mutilators in Texas and Internet porn impresarios
in California. A hotel built to resemble Jesus
dressed as Uncle Sam. A presidential candidate
who snorts Tony Montana-sized mounds of coke
through a gas mask. A cheerful serial killer
who revels in his rock-star notoriety. More High
Weirdness than you can shake something longer
than it is wide at.
WHAT'S NORMAL?
Obviously this is meant to be over-the-top,
a nonstop absurdist exercise in gleeful schaden
freude and shock value. What saves it from being
little more than The Aristocrats, however, is both
Ellis’ obvious respect for the private-eye genre
and his determination to open a dialogue about
the nature of what is perverse. More than just
Mike's sidekick, Trix functions as a counterpoint
to Mike's (and the reader's) widening perception
of human behavior behind closed doors:
"'I'm saying there's more going on in the mod
ern psyche than can be defined by some Puritan
notion of how life should be. Hell, in the last
couple of weeks. I've done things to you that are
still illegal in some states. The pace of change
in the way we live isn't limited to the number of
consumer products available, Mike. Hell, look at
the way porn's changed.... It reflects what's goinq
on in the world. And some bad easy-listening mu
sic and ten minutes of vanilla missionary doesn't
do it for everybody.'"
Crooked Little Vein won't uC it for everybody, either. Ellis reads
somewhat like a cross between Tom Robbins and Kathy Acker and
shares with them the love-'em-or-hate-'em dynamic. A lot of the
novel feels gratuitous, going for the easy gross-out, and certainly
there's something in it to offend everyone. But Ellis' ultimate goal
is to push the envelope, to drag the marginalia of the American id
into the light to give us a good hard look at our notions of what's
"normal," and he succeeds in crafting a very funny morality tale
from the most sordid materials.
Anyway, it's a damn sight healthier than electrocuting puppies.
John G. Nettles
Perhaps we've finally entered
the era Hunter Thompson, Kurt
Vonnegut and William Burroughs
were warning us about for
decades, a time of High Weirdness
and Bad Craziness.
ick <n the teeth that'll youlidt your bloody lip with
it-*. V[-jt- T11; Time bi^sHttirtgauthernf TMlfc.i- ff*tt
CROOKED
mall. The vice president shoots a guy in the face and the guy apol-
Frontier
SALE
* 0
Many Items
20-75% OFF
/
Arriving Daily:
New Journals, Calendars, Planners
& Qreat Things For Your New Place
193 e. clayton st. (706) 369^8079
TVetcame/ faculty a*ul Students
Start Your Year Off Right
Book any spa service and mention UGA
when you call and get 10% off!
Enjoy our sparkling pool or fitness center
during your spa services as well.
Call 706*42 5-9700 to book your appointment.
Located on the grounds of
c /-vo'/ph'-t ,u,
£ At Foundry park Inn
i:. imh SI. • 706.125.9700
w \v \v. foundry parkin ii. rom
NEWS & FEATURES I ARTS & EVENTS I MOVIES I MUSIC I COMICS & ADVICE I CLASSIFIEDS
AUGUST 15,2007 • FLAGPOLE.COM 17