Tuesday, April 29, 2008

It's Not Music Anymore

Hey guys, it’s been a really tough week. I was put in an idiocy induced coma from hearing the inane driveling of Mel Kiper Jr. I was only snapped out of it by the ingenious words and sounds of The Who’s Quadrophenia. Is it me, for a moment? If I could’ve lived in any other period, it would’ve been Russia in 1917 – an ability to test my mettle as a real man and revolutionary, fighting alongside my proletarian brethren against those who oppressed us and ushering in a brave new world. Then I would put a pick axe in Stalin’s head and save the world forever. If I had another time to live in, it would’ve been England in the early 1970s. To be there for The Who and The Mighty Led Zeppelin… YOWZAS!! Unfortunately, “music” nowadays is nothing but corporate swill and mindless trite. To prove this point, let us take a gander at the Billboard “Hot” 100 to see what cud is being regurgitated into the gaping maws of the mouth-breathers that buy this shit.

#1 – Lil Wayne: Lollipop. What a surprise. “Hip-hop” is topping the charts. I remember when hip-hop meant something. I remember when the NWA was turning out class-conscious albums like Straight Outta Compton. Or when Public Enemy, the Shostakovich of the African American Revolution, was releasing the anthem of Black Struggle – It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back. Now, hip-hop is nothing more than a collaborationist medium of the white, military-industrial complex that illegally occupies black cities. Their only goal is to divert the attention of the black proletariat from the struggle and turn them into lumpen proletariat – constantly out “hustlin’” and trying to get “money” and “hos” instead of fighting against those who oppress them. Good work Lil Wayne, you’re more of a class traitor than the Kronstadt scum – and hopefully you’ll meet the same fate.

#2 – Leona Lewis – Bleeding Love. No idea who this is. Her song could be called bleeding vag for all I care, I won’t listen.

#3 – Jordin Sparks – No Air. She came from the awful, awful American Idol. The goal of this program is to turn music into the most corporatist amalgamation of soulless tones and subliminal advertising that is possible. Perhaps if this young lady could get Coca-Cola’s dick out of her mouth long enough to try and learn to sing, perhaps from a great like Robert Plant, she could have a future. And lose some weight. No one likes fat chicks.

#4 – Usher feat. Young Jeezy – Love in the Club. See above. This maggot doesn’t merit me repeating myself.

#5 – Mariah Carey – Whatever Shit She’s Selling. I don’t even know if I can work up the energy to comment about this. Mariah Carey? I’ll buy her a bus ticket so she can come down here, service me, and then go to work picking trash up off the streets of Philadelphia for the rest of her life to try and repay the debt from the harm she inflicted upon society by singing and “acting.” Wait, I forgot Glitter. She just needs to be shot.

#6 – Madonna feat. Justin Timberlake – 4 Minutes. Wow. How is this whore still relevant? Her faux British accent is an insult to great men like Roger Daltrey, Pete Townshend, John Entwhistle and Keith Moon who really do/did have British accents. And Justin Timberlake? In Nepal, the workers are trying to seize control. In Venezuela they’re fighting against the meddling hands of imperialism. And all over Eastern Europe and Africa they are struggling in the streets everyday for rights. Here, in America, we’re listening to a washed up corporate whore, whose only notable contribution to society was to once fondle Jose Canseco’s tiny, steroid ravaged member, and her gal pal Justin Timberlake – who I assume exists merely to prove to all that God has abandoned us.

I cannot go beyond the top six, as I have grown weary from being exposed to this propaganda. I now need to refresh my soul the only way I know how.

1 comment:

  1. Sir, I find your most recent rantings to be a sad decline from their earlier greatness. I can only assume that this latest post is the result of slapping your genitalia on the keyboard. I grow weary of the juvenile, undergraduate pretense at depth.


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