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

WhoreCull on C4's Disunited Kingdom:
Meeja Hoors blog

URBAN TONGUES The BEATBOX is back.

Stop 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 drug-fuelled craze.

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.

www.humanbeatbox.com

See also: Sonic Truth (this issue) and
Sonic Truth (WhoreCull's Music blog)

PHILOSOPHY

Onanistic Solecism:
wank 'til
you puke

So what, 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...

I suppose you're trying to shock people with your "nigger" this and "cunt" that? You're not shocking, just boring
Sheila Damascus-Trump, Aberystwyth

Tartly 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?

Do 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.

"Offence": 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 drop off.

I 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

A 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!

I 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

Teddy, 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.

I 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

The 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.

Nothing 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.

Your 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

Thank 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.

Come on Cull, you miserable sods, what's really so wrong with our lovely planet? It's not all bad!
Hatty Rathmunsen, Deptford

At 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.

Whoever 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?