But last night I saw a film I hadn't seen in years called Pump Up The Volume and was kindly reminded of just how one person can make a difference. If you haven't seen it, or have forgotten just what it's about... there's this guy called Mark, who is a loner at school, and to make matters worse, he looks at the system and sees that there is something completely wrong that no one else seems to see. But at night, he runs a pirate radio station under the anonymous guise of Happy Harry Hard-on, and is everyone in his school's idol.
So here's some classic scenes from the movie.........
Did you ever get the feeling that everything in America is completely fucked up. You know that feeling that the whole country is like one inch away from saying 'That's it, forget it.' You think about it... everything is polluted... the environment, the government, the schools, you name it. Speaking of schools... I was walking the halls the other day and I asked myself, "is there life after high school?" Because I can't face tomorrow, let alone a whole year of this shit. Yeah, you got it folks. It's me again with a little attitude for all you out here and waiting for Atlanta. All you nice people living in the middle of America the beautiful. Lets see, we're on 92 FM tonight and it feels like a nice clean little band so far. No one else is using it. The price is right. Heh, heh. And yes folks you guessed it. Tonight I am as horny as a ten peckered owl, so stay tuned because this is Happy Harry Hardon reminding you to eat your cereal with a fork and do your homework in the dark.
Okay, down to business. I got my wild cherry diet Pepsi and I got my Black Jack gum here and I got that feeling, mmm that familiar feeling that something rank is going down up there. Yeah, I can smell it. I can almost taste it. The rankness in the air. It's everywhere. It's running through that old pipeline out there, trickling along the dumb concrete river and coming up the drains of those lovely tracktones we all live in. I mean, I don't know. Everywhere I look it seems everything is sold out... My dad sold out. And my mom sold out years ago when she had me. And then they sold me out when they brought me to this hole in the world. They made me everything I am today so naturally I hate the bastards. Speaking of which, I am running a contest on the best way to put them out of their misery.
I'm getting a lot of letters here guys. Here. "Dear Happy Harry Hardon, my boyfriend won't talk to me anymore. How do I show him that I really love him?" Look, I don't know anything about these letters asking for love advice. I mean, if I knew anything about love, I would be out there making it instead of talking to you guys. So just send me stuff to box 20710, USA Mail, Paradise Hill, Arizona 84012. Replies guarantied. "Dear Harry, I think you're boring and obnoxious and have a high opinion of yourself." Of Course you're all probably thinking I sent this to myself. "I think school is okay, if you just look at it right. I like your music, but I really don't see why you can't be cheerful for one second." I tell you since you ask. I just arrived in this stupid suburb. I have no friends, no money, no car, no licence. And even if I did have a licence all I can do is drive out to some stupid mall. Maybe if I'm lucky play some fucking video games, smoke a joint and get stupid. You see, there's nothing to do anymore. Everything decent's been done. All the great themes have been used up. Turned into theme parks. So I don't really find it cheerful to be living in totally exhausted decade where there is nothing to look forward to and no one to look up to. That was deep.
Happy Harry Hardon - Guess who? It's ten o'clock, do you care where your parents are? After all, it's a jungle out there. I don't know. Everywhere I look it seems that someone's getting butt-surfed by the system. My parents are always talking about the system, and the sixties and how cool it was. Well, look at where the sixties got them, hey! Come on, people, now smile on your brother, everybody together, try and love one another, right now! Now that was the sixties. This is a song from the nineties from my buddies the Descendants. I hate the sixties, I hate school, I hate principals, I hate vice principles! But my true pure refined hatred is reserved for guidance counsellors. Happy Harry just happens to have in his very hands a copy of a memo written by Mr. David Deaver, guidance councillor extrordinaire to one Miss Loretta Creswood, high school principle. "I found Cheryl un-remorseful about her current condition..." Bastard can't even say she's knocked up. "And she's unwilling to minimise it's affect on the morals of the student population." Guidance counsellors! If they knew anything about career moves would they have ended up as guidance councillors? What do you say we call Deaver up, hey? Happy Harry Hardon just happens to have the home phone numbers of every employee up at Paradise Hills. Here we go, there you are Mr. Deesky
<Happy Harry Hardon rings up Mr Deaver>.
Deaver - Deaver residence, David Deaver speaking.
Happy Harry Hardon - Hey this is WKPS, we're doing a piece on high schools. We understand that your a guidance councillor.
Deaver - I'm head of guidance at Hubert Humphrey High in Paradise Hills Arizona. I've been there seven years.
Happy Harry Hardon - Can you tell me a bit about what you do.
Deaver - I run a comprehensive American values program, in which we discuss ethical situations, sex education and drug abuse -
Happy Harry Hardon - What do you say to young people who look around at the world and see it's become, like you know, a sleazy country, a place you just can't trust. Like your school for example. Why is it, it wins all of these awards and students are dropping out like flies, why... why is that. Now my listeners are interested in the decision to expel Cheryl Bates.
Deaver - I, erm, I'm not aware of anything like that, I don't know what you're talking about.
Happy Harry Hardon - That is not true sir. "Cheryl refuses to accept suggestions of a more positive mental attitude towards her health and her future. I'm afraid I find no alternative, but to suggest suspension."
Deaver - Who is this? How did you get this number?
Happy Harry Hardon - Are you going to admit it sir.
Deaver - Admit what?
Happy Harry Hardon - That you're slime!
Deaver - Now just wait a minute.
Happy Harry Hardon - You interview a student and then you rat on her, you betray her trust, isn't that right Sir!<Deaver hangs up> Well as you can see, these guys are played out. Society is mutating so rapidly that anyone over the age of twenty has really no idea....
Well first of all you're not screwed up, you're an unscrewed up reaction to a screwed up situation. Feeling screwed up at a screwed up time, in a screwed up place does not make you necessarily screwed up, if you catch my drift.
More, includes depth...