June 28, 2006
We’re Ready To Make Nice
For some time, dear reader, it appears as if there’s been some sort of hullabaloo surrounding a trio of country musicians who call themselves the Dixie Chicks. Perhaps you know that a few years ago one of the group’s members lashed out at President Bush, claiming that she was embarrassed to be from the same state as he. Fans of country music, it seems, lean conservative, and they didn’t like this gal’s commentary one bit.
Thus began the Dixie Chicks’ nightmarish saga of criticism, death threats, and storied record sales. This experience was so traumatic for them that, on their most recent album, they decided to cash in on the horror once again by warbling a little ditty called “Not Ready To Make Nice,” or some such. Thus did the airbrushed trio hope to inflame more passions, garner lots of media attention, and hear the pleasant ringing of cash registers as a reward.
But we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” kindly gents and lasses that we are, hope that we can ameliorate this nasty situation. The Dixie Chicks—or at least the heavy-set one in the group—may not be ready to make nice, yet we are. Instead of trying to help them make a buck off of some more free publicity from this ye olde scandale, we decided to offer the first apology.
In a spirit of comity, we shall send the Chicks the following missive, which we earnestly hope will diffuse tensions, let cooler heads prevail, and allow them to warble their tunes without any fear of reprisals:
Dear Dixie Chicks (especially the heavy-set one),
We recently heard your gyno-pop anthem “Not Ready To Make Nice” on the radio, and we thought we’d try to be, in the inimitable words of Stokley Carmichael, part of the solution instead of part of the problem. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are not only ready to make nice, we’re going to make nice right now.
We, for one, are sorry that this whole brouhaha erupted in the first place. In fact, had it not occurred, we would have remained blissfully unaware of your “music.” Oh, how wonderful that might have been!
You see, Chicks, we don’t have any problem with your statements about President Bush. As far as we’re concerned, you can give him the full “Music Man” treatment: Cover him in tar and feathers and ride him out on a rail.
Instead, it’s the syrupy crap you call your music that really offends. If you ask us, commercial country music is simply un-listenable aural detritus. Enjoying that feculent sub-genre of pop palaver is tantamount to wearing a T-shirt with the slogan “I have an IQ of 73” emblazoned on the front.
In fact, though you may be embarrassed that President Bush hails from your home state, we’re embarrassed for humanity that your brand of saccharine garbage earns you enviable salaries. As H.L. Menken once said, no one ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public. You, ladies, are a perfect example of the late Mr. Menken’s adage.
The sewage you play sounds like music for people who think Tori Amos is a bit too ballsy. It’s the audio version of “Steel Magnolias.” In short, it’s loathsome garbage.
So, since we’re nice enough to let you let ‘er rip against the President, we figured we could ask a favor of you in return. Could you please never perform again? We can certainly handle your controversial statements; it’s your lousy songs we can’t stomach.
Cordially,
The Crack Young Staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”
