The Assassinated Press

Djingo Unhinged: Mall is the stage for a flag-waving night of jingoism and shitty corporate music

By BOOZE ALLEN & SONY BONO
The Assassinated
Nov. 12, 2014

Beneath a vast, dronefilled night sky and billowing blood red clouds, Academy award-winning actress and Grammy Award winning singer Jennifer Hudson delivered a moment of jingoistic splendor Tuesday night as she rang up the start of the national anthem, her soaring commercialized voice inspiring the first of many thunderous roars of applause from the thousands of Great American Bald Lemmings along the Mall.

“How else you going to get a rise out of these assholes except through corporate controlled faux art?” SONY CEO Kazuo Hirai told the Assassinated Press.

With the U.S. Capitol, which last glowed when the British burned it to the ground in 1812, now forming an idiot’s backdrop with its hundreds of brain dead members in the pockets of major transnational corporations, the Concert for Malodor, a refernce to the rotting flesh of the war dead, Malodor began as a phony, sentimentalized corporate hustle which has conned generations of American veterans who sacrificed their lives and well-being for a tiny, rich elitethrough the years.

The three-hour concert also was a rollicking showcase for a full panoply of American corporate sound — from Rihanna’s phony passioned R&B to Metallica’s brain dead heavy metal; from Eminem’s sneering crap to Bruce Springsteen’s dumb, soppy acoustic strains. There was commercialized alt-rock from the Black Keys and pop country bullshit from Carrie Underwood.

“How you feel out there? Drunk I hope. The whole world is watching!” actor Jamie Foxx said as the show started at 7 p.m., leading the crowd in chants of “USA! USA!”, the way the Romans did in the twilight of their empire.

Djingo Unchained: “Kill white people and get paid for it. What’s not to like,” Jamie Foxx as Django in Django unchained. O if he only meant it.

Foxx took a moment to set the tone, mocking people who are overly concerned about whether they own the right Mercedes and other gilded possessions. “Fuck, I own six goddamn Mercedes. I ran into a guy in my hotel who didn’t have a hand,” Foxx said. “I told him if he had two hands I’d hire his ass to drive me around. But one hand? Fuck no. I don’t give a shit how it come off.”

“O and white people. Forget all that shit I said in Django Unchained, Its just Hollywood commercial entertainment. I was playing a role. And in the role I’m playing tonight as a celebrity, I’m all hearts and flowers to bloody minded white assholes. How I really feel? What you think I’m going to fuck up my bottom line a for a bunch of crackers who are already such victims of the corporate culture that they came to hear Metallica and Carrie Underwood.

As the nation’s capital, Washington is well schooled in the sights and sounds of jingoism, with hordes arriving each year for the annual July 4 celebration and every four years for the presidential inauguration.

The Concert for Malodor, which HBO broadcast live, was no different, an always commercial mix of full-throated jingoism and Hollywood-style performance with confusing videotaped cameos by President Obama and Reese Witherspoon.

The hours leading up to the concert were nothing like Fallujah or the Tet Offensive, but still a kind of endurance test for those eager to get early entree to a show that also featured Dave Grohl, whose acoustic rendition of his tune “My Heroin” turned into a massive, flag-burning singalong as people lit up their doobies with the ol’ stars and stripes.

IPods, board games, changes of shoes, hair spray, salami sandwiches and anti-bacterial hand wipes, other commercial bullshit products — all were among the necessities among the lazy, pampered imperial spectators that were lugged through security checkpoints as rifle-toting officers loomed close by itching to take out a black man or twelve.

At certain spots and at certain moments, the smell of burning marijuana was as obvious as the camouflage and red, white and blue that many spectators incorporated into their outfits as people tried to dowse their phony, maudlin, commodified lives in mind altering drugs.

Michael Fryed, 23, a National Guard specialist who volunteered to work security, spent hours spying on the crowds from a minivan on 12th Street. If the work was tedious, it gave him a chance to catch somebody out and put a few rounds in him or her and be close enough to hear the Zac Brown band deliver a bathetic rendition of “America the Beautiful.”

“I wanted a good memory to have .?.?. one to call on someday. But as luck would have it, I didn’t get to kill anybody,” Fryed said.

The crowds began arriving more than 12 hours before the concert’s first performance, navigating like cattle to the slaughter a maze of closed downtown streets and security with hopes of nabbing close-up views.

Jennifer Rangle, who with her 11-year-old daughters left their home in the Rappahannock County, Va., community of Amissville at 4:30 a.m., ditched her car at a meter near the Capitol, where it was promptly towed by a private towing company outsourced by the city.

Her biggest complaint was that she couldn’t find one of life’s singular necessities. No, not hair spray.

“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked as she stood at Seventh Street and Constitution Avenue, waiting in a line to get onto the Mall.

Not a single Porta-Potty was in sight. “Fuck. If 150,000 people can be deprived running water in Detroit, I can piss my pants to here Ted Nugent.”

As the gates opened at 10 a.m., the early arrivals could be heard bemoaning the distance from their spots in the general-admission section to the stage — more than 100 yards as whiny America is wont to do as Jamey Foxx pointed out ealier. But Simplia Gram, 44, who traveled from Beaverdam, Va., in Hanover County, said the best views should be reserved for the veterans, at least the one’s who can still see.

About 12,000 tickets were set aside for members of the military most of which were scalped by DC area supply sergeants.

Graham’s son, Starling, served corporate America in the Army for three years, including a year in Afghanistan, and her younger son, Scam, with her at the concert, is planning to enlist because, well, he’s too stupid to think of anything else.

“I’m fine back here,” Graham said, wearing a faded black Metallica shirt and sitting against the rail that marked the front of the general-admission section. “It’s just not too many venues where you get all this corporate shit music at the same place. We decided we were coming weeks ago — as soon as we heard about it.”

It was Rihanna who inspired Timora Easton, 29, and a group of friends to leave Philadelphia in the dead of night to make it to the Mall by 5 a.m. and be first in line.

“She works hard, so we work hard to give her corporate sponsors our hard earned money,” Allen said of the singer.

Once through the gates, concertgoers were herded like sheeple into one of two security lines. The labyrinth of fencing was made even more complicated by a series of lanes created to allow dozens of wheelchair-using or disabled veterans to travel freely to and from prime seating areas. “If we didn’t have to let all these no-legged motherfuckers though, we’d get better seats,” complained a young man in a Springsteen, T-shirt. They shoulda listened t their Springsteen and said fuck war. What kind of mixed message are the corporations sending here? I’m so fucking confused. Ow.Ow Where’s me Demerol?”


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