You’re not gonna take it? No? You’re not gonna take it? Anymore?
You’re not gonna let Paul Ryan use your one hit to introduce him? That’s, like, beneath you? You have serious moral issues with that?
News flash, you aging no-homo drag queen: that piece of art you excreted all over MTV back in 1984 wasn’t exactly “Anarchy in the UK.” Hell, it wasn’t even “‘Wooly Bully.” It’s a damn football chant, which makes you all a slightly hunkier Gary Glitter.
“We’re Not Gonna Take It” is apropos of anything. It’s every vague rockin’ protest set to wax since Elvis did “That’s All Right, Mama.” It’s Two Minutes Vague-Oppositionality, Gosh Darn the Man, Who Keeps Us Down By Making Us Take Our Pledge Pin Off Our Uniform. It’s Bender in The Breakfast Club, who thinks because he razzes the Assistant Principal that it’s totally fine to dump all over the nerdy kid right after he admits to suicidal thoughts, because Bender’s “A” in Wood Shop is what’s really important right now.
I’d like to believe that Twisted Sister is really motivated by their commitment to Keynsian Economics and a woman’s right to be terrified that the GOP is coming for her ladyparts. But I rather suspect that someone’s kids found out about it, and went all “Republicans are Bad, mmmmkay?” whereupon someone’s booking agent smelled publicity, and then a most totally rockin’ cease-and-desist (the most hardcore of letters) was put in the U.S. Mail. Good Day, Sir!
So take your A in Wood Shop, Twisted Sister, and clutch it to your breast. Clutch it hard, because the unfeeling maw of Reality TV awaits, and you’re gonna need it. Yeah, you’re gonna need it. Evermore.