WhoreCull was going to be big and brave by defacing the actual
huge poster of this at Finsbury Park, but what with one thing and
another we didn't get round to it. It was only up for a few days.
We believe in 'pen is mightier than the sword'-style activism anyway.
Another vapid govt/big business venture
on C4's Disunited Kingdom:
Meeja Hoors blog
right there, because
of course the art of making beats with your mouth had never gone
away, but, like the other hip-hop 70s/80s street-arts such as graffitti
and breakdancing, had simply moved to the underground while the
main component - dj-ing- had swept all before it in a dance and
It has taken
a while for it to take the limelight off bombin; and breakin' -
but now the spittle riddims form a major facet of major 'street'
events, which are of course organised without spontaneity and with
corporate sponsorship off the streets in huge leisure arenas these
days. Its resurgence has been evident for a few years. Artists like
Killa Kela and The Roots' Rahzel are established names, little b/box
motifs turned up on tunes such as Nextmen's Turn it Up a Little
and in shows by the likes of DJ Vadim and men like Spitkingdom represent
the underground. Scratch have done one of their 'how to' vidz for
the sound. Even Justin Timberlake/Timberland's Cry Me a River, the
number one smash hit record by the man the industry are desperately
grooming as the Next Micky Jackson, has a b/box coda to it, though
whether it's the work of the post-teen idol now-r&b renasissance
man is not clear.
So at least
it's moved on from the days of the Fat Boys, who would more likely
use the boxvox to ape the sound of their arses than for any genuine
sonic innovation. And as someone who nearly got into a fight over
inebriated phonetic confusion between kickboxing and beatboxing
(it's a long story), I'm glad to see the latter back in prominence.
Buy a mic, and lay down some oral breaks.
Doug E Fresh - The Show
Doug E Fresh - The Human Beatbox
Reprazent ft Rahzel - In Tune With The Sound
Dillinja - The Human B-Bop
Roxanne Shante - The Def Fresh Crew
also: Sonic Truth (this issue) and
Sonic Truth (WhoreCull's Music blog)
you may well be wondering, is this Whore Cull business all about?
'Belligerent self-assertion. Not only do we not know when to stop
wanking, we refuse to. I wank therefore I am.' So says compulsive
'wankmaster' Arthur Craven Tent, whom we recently invited
to reply on our behalf to an entirely representative selection from
the bulging Cull mailbag. Barely three months later, he couriered
over this collection of semen-encrusted responses from his barrel
in London's up-and-coming Kings Cross...
suppose you're trying to shock people with your "nigger"
this and "cunt" that? You're not shocking, just boring
Sheila Damascus-Trump, Aberystwyth
put, my dear Sheila. But WhoreCull specialises in witless eruptions
of frenetic spleen from supine wankers who have yet to grasp the
difference between exquisite abuse and masturbatory stupidity. We're
knobheads, hapless cunts who are probably just trying to be "controversial".
But perhaps you're already too bored to pay attention? Does the
prospect of imminent societal collapse bore you? Or does that particular
rhetorical gambit strike you as needlessly hyperbolic? Does gratuitous
raving about "cunts" and "niggers" bore you?
Are you bored by people trying to be "shocking for the sake
of it"? Yet how can you invoke your right not to be bored by
gratuitous "offensiveness" if you're still reading newspapers
and watching TV?
suicide bombers and bacterial warfare bore you? Does the prospect
of ecological catastrophe and massive geopolitical trauma bore you?
If violent cataclysm solicits from you nothing more than mild ennui
maybe it's because you've been successfully stupefied through continuous
immersion in the moronic sludge of a culture that peddles deluded
fantasy as information, vicious humiliation as entertainment, systematic
debasement as distraction. So stupefied in fact that you're incapable
of registering the kind of liberating incomprehension that people
almost always have to stave off by dismissing its cause as "offensive"
and its perpetrators as puerile self-publicists.
an asinine word used to cover up the doubt you're forced to experience
when confronted by stuff you suspect of trying to catch you off
guard, the stuff that reminds you that the criteria you invoke to
distinguish between right and wrong may be nothing but flimsy blinkers
blanking out the glare from the world's epileptic disorder. The
wankers at WhoreCull would like to remind you of that fact, make
you stop laughing long enough for those smug little blinkers to
work hard to feed my family, pay my taxes and give a percentage
of my earnings to charity, but I feel our career politicians are
failing to address the real problems of the world. What's the Cull's
message for me?
Jones Bloater, Ipswich
commendable misgiving, Jones. Cull is "about" exploding
the hypocritical assurances and conscience-appeasing "concern
for the needy" that go hand in glove with a criminally corrupt
political system and a viciously mongoloid popular culture. The
integration of recognisable japes with baffling nastiness is there
to sandpaper your media-jaded nervous systems. The only reasonable
response to vitriolic tirades of the "I suppose you wankers
think sex crime and race crime are funny?" or "ambiguity
is a smug pomo copout!" variety must be: there is no ambiguity,
no irony. This is not a pomo simulation. Our hatred is real and
heartfelt: BURN THE NIGGERS IN THEIR OWN CRACKPIPES!
like my life in the affluent west, but get I low from time to time
thinking about the people displaced and dismembered by the military
that my tax funds. I wondered if WhoreCull shares my relief that
Private Eye, Mark Thomas, Rory Bremner and the Dead Ringers team
are on hand to puncture the pomposity of the great and good?
Teddy Salmon, Salford
you cunt, do you really think you can afford to keep laughing? You
really should stop laughing. It's not fucking funny. Your laughter
is what greases the unrelenting conveyor belt of obscenity. And
it's only a matter of time before the darkness you watch being played
out nightly on the evening news bursts out through the TV screen
to ruin your little life and put an end to everything that makes
you feel safe. Are you ready to taste the darkness you've been able
to ogle from your armchair for so long? It's crawling toward your
living room. It's coming here.
find racism and sexism disgusting yet cannot help but feel that
blacks and women bring it on themselves. Am I being unjust? But
what is justice?
Barry Socrates, Coventry
refusal to perpetuate the lie, Barry. What lie? This one: if you
think hating blacks and women is unacceptable, it's because you
think you can do something about it. But only by the same token
whereby you think bombing third world populations is unavoidable,
because, however regrettable, there's very little you can do about
it. WhoreCull aims to skullfuck this lame reactionary distinction
between unacceptable micropolitical pathologies and unavoidable
macropolitical cynicism. Aren't Blair and Bush truly obscene in
a way that makes Peter Sutcliffe1 and George Lincoln
Rockwell2 look endearing in their confused, childlike
innocence? People cling to this laughably trite measuring gauge
for evil in order to avoid the otherwise inescapable conclusion
that it's all fucked, the whole kit and boodle.
short of the total eradication of everything you think you know
can make the word "justice" intelligible. Don't talk about
"wrongness" unless you're willing to stop consenting to
the rational worldview that allows you the luxury of thinking banal
pathologies like "sexism" or "racism" are "unacceptable"
while the systematic terror being imposed on the world by liberal
democracies is "unavoidable". Because your ability to
accept that distinction is indicative of your profound investment
in a "free world" that allows your precious liberal-democratic
sensibility the luxury of registering offence at those inane pathologies
while piously consenting to the big one, the only pathology that
truly deserves to be called "political": the world's.
ladykiller popularly known as 'the Yorkshire Ripper'. cf Cull
of the American Nazi Prty and author of impish pan-Aryanist tract
White Power. cf Cull #2
mag is shit, you gutless wankers. I'm usually a reasonable person
but I still think you're cunts and deserve to die. I hate people
who hate people just because their skin is wrong or their privates
are wrong. Yet I cannot help wondering: What is to be thought? What
is to be done?
Nigel Monkton, Stirling
you for your views, Nigel. Let me try to answer your searing query
thus: Capitalism, which has now assumed the mantle of divinity,
commands us to love life and world. Capitalist civilisation is predicated
on the societally enforced imperative that teaches us to love the
world as it is. And of course, the more you learn to love the world,
the more it begins to make sense: it's not so bad! WhoreCull wants
to relieve you of your societally enforced guilt about understanding
why people hate so that you can embrace the emancipatory potential
of a hatred that is neither partial and discriminatory, like that
of the racist or sexist; nor generic and indiscriminate, like that
of the thug. A hatred that is focused yet all-encompassing because
it is anchored in an uncompromising refusal of the world. We want
you to stop making sense of the world so that you can start hating
it instead. If only you would stop feeling guilty about your own
ability to understand people who hate for a reason, maybe you could
learn to embrace the coruscating potency that comes with the ability
to hate the world for no other reason than its being as it is. There
is nothing that doesn't deserve to be hated: men, women, children,
blacks, whites, popular culture, liberal democracy, civil society,
consumer capitalism, humanity. For WhoreCull, niggers and cunts
are nominal placeholders for a hatred so profound, nothing less
than the total eradication of reality as we know it can suffice.
That hatred is a true and beautiful thing.
on Cull, you miserable sods, what's really so wrong with our lovely
planet? It's not all bad!
Hatty Rathmunsen, Deptford
the risk of sounding alarmist, Hatty, one has to wager that as the
turbulence intensifies and the world accelerates toward geopolitical
meltdown, massive cognitive dissonance may yet provide the true
path to political enlightenment. WhoreCull is "about"
punching reality-shaped holes in people's heads. You really should
learn to be more afraid. The only balance WhoreCull strives for
is the balance between minutely detailed recordings of mundane pathologies
- race hate, sex hate, consumer hate - and perspicuously argued
denunciations of the global pathology. Spurred on by the venerable
example of our beloved Chairman, Mao Zedong, we espouse the politics
of Total Cultural Revolution. Reformism, the idea that things can
only be improved incrementally, is based on the increasingly fatuous
assumption that we have time. There is no time. A politics anchored
in time is a politics of conservation. Conservatism is the political
creed of those who have something to lose. So ask yourself: what
do you have to lose? Your life? Your life expectancy grows shorter
with every day Blair and Bush stay in office. Are you worried that
things could get worse? They're already getting worse every day.
The future was cancelled some time ago. Optimism is reactionary:
it cocoons actuality in the gossamer of the tolerable, dulling the
thirst for change. Despair is revolutionary: it grinds the knife-edge
of the intolerable against the whetstone of actuality, sparking
the will to change.
finds the present tolerable will never risk everything to change
it. Only those who realise they have no future left to lose are
willing to stake everything on a total transformation of the present.
So ask yourself once more: what the fuck do you have to lose?