Stuck (on) You

By Noel Oxford

As the dust settled over Manhattan, somewhere in the choking miasma of pulverised concrete and thermite (shh) must have been the very, very first United States citizen ever to turn stinging, streaming eyes to the heavens, cut off from man by the pall of destruction, and utter the words ‘why do they hate us?’

Why do they hate us?

Have you ever had an actual real-life American ask you that? It’s a question on par with ‘why do you like to hit me, daddy?’ You can’t just say ‘well poppet, it’s because you suck.’ That don’t wash. So you might try to explain the long arc of the last couple of centuries or so, all without resorting to vague, uninformed handwaving about, like, you know, Israel and stuff, before floundering to a halt, having made no dent whatsoever in your cohort’s jingoism. There has never been a simple, easy answer. That is, until now!

I know why people hate America. It’s because America birthed Stuck Mojo.

Meet Stuck Mojo.

Stuck Mojo are one of those also-rans of mid-90s rap metal like Clawfinger, Hed PE and Insane Clown Posse. Apparently, they were once genre-defining pioneers, but when the genre under discussion is rap metal, you can see why they don’t shout about it. After a few mildly successful records, they disbanded in 2000 along with the Clinton administration, apparently convinced that their job was done once a Bush was back in his rightful place. You see, whereas Rage Against the Machine’s ‘Dope Hooks’ channelled equal parts Noam Chomsky and Jimmy Page, Stuck Mojo sounded sort of like Pantera reading aloud from Rush Limbaugh transcripts.

Fortunately for all of us, they got back together. Stuck Mojo, having identified a hole in the marketplace for bad music backed by ugly political sentiment, are once again a going concern. And in the meantime, a couple of them are also in Fozzy, a side project they started with a fucking professional wrestler. If that does not sum up the gigantic national problems of the United States of America, then I do not know what will.

Lads. Gather round. Let’s have a look at this thing.

Hey look, it’s ARE TROOPS. I’d recognise that dude on the left anywhere. And isn’t that the T-1000 in the middle?


I’m American truly does embody all that is good and noble about these United States. OO RAH COME GET SOME HAJJI (that cloud of smoke used to be a puppy orphanage.)

These are a few of my favourite things.

Hey man, you said it. Flag-themed steps are not the least among them.

I bet that’s what Mr Liberty is thinking, too.

For the rest of the clip, you mostly just get a lot of this. A white man wanking in front of a dilapidated clapboard shack.

Which strikes me as odd, really. If this is a love letter to the USA, why didn’t they film somewhere a little more picturesque than this bible belt shanty? You know, I hear Iraq is looking pretty handsome nowadays.

After a few nuanced and totally representative shots of majestic United States Marine Corps Übermenschen kissing foreign brown babies – just to settle that whole debate about the merits and wisdom of middle east adventurism – the video’s done.

In conclusion,


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