Morrissey as folk devil

GirlAfraidWillNeverLearn

Nobody's Nothing
Morrissey is a social sickness.


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From Autobiography:

"High-toned, I carry the Dolls LP sleeve into school, where I attempt to reproduce its front cover in blotchy Manchester Education Committee goo-paint as an art presentation. Art teacher Miss Power (for teachers, Miss told us that she was not legally bound to a man, Mrs told us that she was legally bound to a man, whilst Mr slyly protected the secret) was so highly strung that she frequently raced from the classroom in tears of rage at someone not present. On this particular day, spotting the New York Dolls sleeve resting on my desk in that’s-my-boy sniffiness, Miss Power grabbed the LP sleeve and held it aloft for the entire class to examine:
LOOK AT THIS!’ she demanded of everyone, ‘LOOK AT THIS!’ and everyone looked at this. ‘THIS is sickness. These are MEN making themselves sexual for OTHER MEN.
And on she went, terribly upset. She appealed to the class for support, but none came, and although I expected a fierce larruping for abstaining from dullness, none came, and Miss Power had merely outed me as a prostitute; a midnight cowboy in flannel-grey.
I felt quite pleased that something might disconnect me from the vacant clambrains seated around me, but it wasn’t Miss Power’s fault that she did not know that the Dolls’ appearance had girls – not boys – flocking to mingle with them, and that the Dolls gratefully obliged in a modern world uncharted by Miss Power, who was nonetheless certain that her own life had a moral superiority that the New York Dolls ought to be wise enough to follow. But the world within (and without) St Mary’s was not yet ready, and even when the Dolls’ Frankenstein was bravely spun on the school’s nearer-my-God-to-thee-am-I record player by Miss Judge for an English language dissection (for I was not the type to give up until blood spurted out – my own, if necessary), none of the listening lads of 1973 had anything to say by way of autopsy until Andrew Lempiki spoke up quite brilliantly with:
I thought they were birds.’"


Some things never change.
"...for I was not the type to give up until blood spurted out – my own, if necessary..."
 

BookishBoy

Well-Known Member
From Autobiography:

"High-toned, I carry the Dolls LP sleeve into school, where I attempt to reproduce its front cover in blotchy Manchester Education Committee goo-paint as an art presentation. Art teacher Miss Power (for teachers, Miss told us that she was not legally bound to a man, Mrs told us that she was legally bound to a man, whilst Mr slyly protected the secret) was so highly strung that she frequently raced from the classroom in tears of rage at someone not present. On this particular day, spotting the New York Dolls sleeve resting on my desk in that’s-my-boy sniffiness, Miss Power grabbed the LP sleeve and held it aloft for the entire class to examine:
LOOK AT THIS!’ she demanded of everyone, ‘LOOK AT THIS!’ and everyone looked at this. ‘THIS is sickness. These are MEN making themselves sexual for OTHER MEN.
And on she went, terribly upset. She appealed to the class for support, but none came, and although I expected a fierce larruping for abstaining from dullness, none came, and Miss Power had merely outed me as a prostitute; a midnight cowboy in flannel-grey.
I felt quite pleased that something might disconnect me from the vacant clambrains seated around me, but it wasn’t Miss Power’s fault that she did not know that the Dolls’ appearance had girls – not boys – flocking to mingle with them, and that the Dolls gratefully obliged in a modern world uncharted by Miss Power, who was nonetheless certain that her own life had a moral superiority that the New York Dolls ought to be wise enough to follow. But the world within (and without) St Mary’s was not yet ready, and even when the Dolls’ Frankenstein was bravely spun on the school’s nearer-my-God-to-thee-am-I record player by Miss Judge for an English language dissection (for I was not the type to give up until blood spurted out – my own, if necessary), none of the listening lads of 1973 had anything to say by way of autopsy until Andrew Lempiki spoke up quite brilliantly with:
I thought they were birds.’"


Some things never change.
"...for I was not the type to give up until blood spurted out – my own, if necessary..."
My god that book is so good (apart from the tedious bits).
 

Ketamine Sun

<><><><><><><>
From Autobiography:

"High-toned, I carry the Dolls LP sleeve into school, where I attempt to reproduce its front cover in blotchy Manchester Education Committee goo-paint as an art presentation. Art teacher Miss Power (for teachers, Miss told us that she was not legally bound to a man, Mrs told us that she was legally bound to a man, whilst Mr slyly protected the secret) was so highly strung that she frequently raced from the classroom in tears of rage at someone not present. On this particular day, spotting the New York Dolls sleeve resting on my desk in that’s-my-boy sniffiness, Miss Power grabbed the LP sleeve and held it aloft for the entire class to examine:
LOOK AT THIS!’ she demanded of everyone, ‘LOOK AT THIS!’ and everyone looked at this. ‘THIS is sickness. These are MEN making themselves sexual for OTHER MEN.
And on she went, terribly upset. She appealed to the class for support, but none came, and although I expected a fierce larruping for abstaining from dullness, none came, and Miss Power had merely outed me as a prostitute; a midnight cowboy in flannel-grey.
I felt quite pleased that something might disconnect me from the vacant clambrains seated around me, but it wasn’t Miss Power’s fault that she did not know that the Dolls’ appearance had girls – not boys – flocking to mingle with them, and that the Dolls gratefully obliged in a modern world uncharted by Miss Power, who was nonetheless certain that her own life had a moral superiority that the New York Dolls ought to be wise enough to follow. But the world within (and without) St Mary’s was not yet ready, and even when the Dolls’ Frankenstein was bravely spun on the school’s nearer-my-God-to-thee-am-I record player by Miss Judge for an English language dissection (for I was not the type to give up until blood spurted out – my own, if necessary), none of the listening lads of 1973 had anything to say by way of autopsy until Andrew Lempiki spoke up quite brilliantly with:
I thought they were birds.’"


Some things never change.
"...for I was not the type to give up until blood spurted out – my own, if necessary..."

Somethings never change ....

‘I felt quite pleased that something might disconnect me from the vacant clambrains seated around me’



Anything to be ... hoisted from the herd.

:cool:
 
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