"There ain�t no one out there who�s a fuckin� threat to us, okay? They don�t exist. I�m talking now only of countries we don�t arm first."                                        -- Bill Hicks, Rant in E-Minor, �1993.
	During a break I explained that the song, obvious satire to me, was played regularly on KLBJ when it came out in 1979 and was representative of the best local sounds in that era. Besides, I added, if you hate that one, you'll really hate the next song. We proceeded to play "Cheap Girl," the signature song of early-'80s Austin gods the Skunks, whose lead sing and songwriter Jesse Sublett has gone on to write mystery novels. The phone rang again. Same caller. She wanted to talk to me. As she began lecturing on how disgusting this was and how she was going to write a letter to the station manager, all I could think was, I'm glad I played the clean, "I wouldn't touch her with a 10-foot stick" version and that neither offending song contained profanity. I didn't actually say it, because the next host was going on the air and (in a very non-'90s move) I didn't want to interrupt him. But, if I had spoken more, I would have told her to lighten up. THEY'RE ONLY SONGS (and obscure ones at that). THEY CAN'T HURT YOU. I'm more offended by menstrual pad commercials that have progressed from fields of daisies to frank discussion of level of blood flow. But, I simply let it pass or change the channel. That is part of living in a free and crowded society. You're not going to like everything you hear or see. And, if you have no sense of humor, you're not going to realize that perhaps some things are designed to offend you. That is the basis of satire, of comedy, of creativity. Lighten up. I was thinking about all of this as I was stuck at a traffic light the other day. The woman in the next lane was honking impatiently at the car in front of her. The other driver did his best to act oblivious. Suddenly the woman opened her door, stepped boldly toward the car, removed a small briefcase resting on its trunk and handed it through the window with a smile. That one act, as minor as it seems, gives me hope as the Pissed Off '90s come to a close. I look ahead to the '00s as a time when people respect each other despite their differences, when we willingly go out of our way for strangers, when we aren't so quick to condemn. After all, anything's possible in a shiny, new century. This free-lance essay originally appeared in the Austin American-Statesman. The author retains all rights.
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