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steve, everett quinton, television, dr. jennifer melfi, dialogue, woody harrelson, denis leary, nona gaye, libya, omani, stacey,
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In the simulated "real world" defined by media, we can only sumerian talk about the roughest parts of life - sex, drugs, disease, violence, the broken American family - either at circus-like and demeaning Jerry Springer type brawls or, even sumerian worse, in pseudo-clinical terms chosen by postgraduates and Queen Oprah that are designed to sumerian take the power out of social dynamics that are, at their root, quests to regain powers lost. The format by which the media, the medical and psychiatric professions, the law, and other institutions, limit the discourse about what goes on behind closed trailer-park doors - through the act of denying their tens if not hundreds of millions of residents uncensored voice and a respected seat at the microphone - only serves to intensify and ghettoize the damage done. It's a vicious cycle and Eminem has arrived, like the black rappers before him, to break it. On "The Eminem Show's" second single, "Cleaning Out My Closet," now rising up the charts, he sings: "I'm sorry Mama, I never meant to hurt you I never meant to make you cry but tonight I'm cleaning out my closet" I got some skeletons in my closet/and I don't know if no one knows it/so before they throw me in my coffin and close itI'ma expose it/I'll take you back to '73/before I ever had a multi-platinum sellin' CD/I was a baby, maybe I was just a couple of months/My faggot father must have had his panties up in a bunch/cuz he split I wonder if
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