They don't make'em like they used to
Good Morning, boys and girls! Yep, it's that time again, i'm gracing your screens once more.
The devilishly charming, shockingly handsome and endlessly arrogant Sir Dr. Lor... you know, let's just go with Richard today.
I do so miss our little chats, buy my who has the time these days? Time.. time is money, and time and money are the bastard adoptive parents of life. So I write to you, I write without cause or audience, I write without any real intent other than to occupy my time. I keep my secrets to myself, so why bother going through the motions? Making everything so vague and so mysterious, well, at least trying to. Because it's fun, ladies and gentlemen, to put my fingers down on this little keyboard and see what comes out. I sometimes even surprise myself!
But that doesn't happen too often, because me I know just what i'm capable of, and i'll admit it freely, I am hopelessly, madly in love with myself. No really, I don't just say i'm fantastic to amuse you, I really am quite convinced that i'm one of the more marvelous of God's creations.
But that's why you love me, nés pas?
So now that i've got you enthralled and in the literary palm of my hand, where do we go from here?
What would you ask of your wordsmith? What intricacies may I weave before your needy eyes, what can I give you to take with you through your day? Truth be told, this old soul doesn't have that much to give you by means of complication anymore.
No, this young man has taken to the simplicities in life to get him by, definetly more now a prisoner to the aesthetic than he ever would've admitted.
I don't pay much attention to the television anymore, because honestly what is there to pay attention to?
I'm not 13, that rules out about 3/4th's of what's on at any given time.
I don't care who dumped who, who cheated on who, or what Britney Spears had for lunch last week.
I don't care about The Used, Panic at the Disco, Green Day, Poison the Well, Fall out Boy, Menudo, Beyoncé or even Kenny G, because I don't dig emos.
Bad greasy haircuts and girls with kool-aid in their hair, boys and girls, that sounds like devolution to me.
Music, television, even movies are on the downfall, though at least some things are still sacred there.
But the older I get the more I see the commercialism in everything, the lust for money behind every major release.
I know there's without a doubt a lot more stupid people in the world than rational ones, but i'd still like to think that studios and labels would make more money if they just gave the people what they want. Emos go yay, and that's what they think people want, but they're forgetting that emos aren't really people.
They're somewhere in between Zombies (stupid ones, not the 28 days/weeks later ones) and Badgers (stupid ones, not the singing ones).
The articulation of a shambling undead fiend mixed with the mindless acceptance and sophistication of a tunnel digging mammal.
I think back sometimes and wonder if it was always this way, and maybe i've just never grown out of my tastes in order to embrace what's new and hip. But then that's just me being naive and hopeful, because I know damn well that music never sucked on that level.
No, not even during the 50's. Yes, I think I will do the twist, thank you very much.
Meanwhile Mozart is turning in his grave while your little sister calls Pete Wentz a musical genius. Sigh.
It's just a very frustrating time to turn on the television or radio, or speak to a person.
They just don't make'em like they used to.
The devilishly charming, shockingly handsome and endlessly arrogant Sir Dr. Lor... you know, let's just go with Richard today.
I do so miss our little chats, buy my who has the time these days? Time.. time is money, and time and money are the bastard adoptive parents of life. So I write to you, I write without cause or audience, I write without any real intent other than to occupy my time. I keep my secrets to myself, so why bother going through the motions? Making everything so vague and so mysterious, well, at least trying to. Because it's fun, ladies and gentlemen, to put my fingers down on this little keyboard and see what comes out. I sometimes even surprise myself!
But that doesn't happen too often, because me I know just what i'm capable of, and i'll admit it freely, I am hopelessly, madly in love with myself. No really, I don't just say i'm fantastic to amuse you, I really am quite convinced that i'm one of the more marvelous of God's creations.
But that's why you love me, nés pas?
So now that i've got you enthralled and in the literary palm of my hand, where do we go from here?
What would you ask of your wordsmith? What intricacies may I weave before your needy eyes, what can I give you to take with you through your day? Truth be told, this old soul doesn't have that much to give you by means of complication anymore.
No, this young man has taken to the simplicities in life to get him by, definetly more now a prisoner to the aesthetic than he ever would've admitted.
I don't pay much attention to the television anymore, because honestly what is there to pay attention to?
I'm not 13, that rules out about 3/4th's of what's on at any given time.
I don't care who dumped who, who cheated on who, or what Britney Spears had for lunch last week.
I don't care about The Used, Panic at the Disco, Green Day, Poison the Well, Fall out Boy, Menudo, Beyoncé or even Kenny G, because I don't dig emos.
Bad greasy haircuts and girls with kool-aid in their hair, boys and girls, that sounds like devolution to me.
Music, television, even movies are on the downfall, though at least some things are still sacred there.
But the older I get the more I see the commercialism in everything, the lust for money behind every major release.
I know there's without a doubt a lot more stupid people in the world than rational ones, but i'd still like to think that studios and labels would make more money if they just gave the people what they want. Emos go yay, and that's what they think people want, but they're forgetting that emos aren't really people.
They're somewhere in between Zombies (stupid ones, not the 28 days/weeks later ones) and Badgers (stupid ones, not the singing ones).
The articulation of a shambling undead fiend mixed with the mindless acceptance and sophistication of a tunnel digging mammal.
I think back sometimes and wonder if it was always this way, and maybe i've just never grown out of my tastes in order to embrace what's new and hip. But then that's just me being naive and hopeful, because I know damn well that music never sucked on that level.
No, not even during the 50's. Yes, I think I will do the twist, thank you very much.
Meanwhile Mozart is turning in his grave while your little sister calls Pete Wentz a musical genius. Sigh.
It's just a very frustrating time to turn on the television or radio, or speak to a person.
They just don't make'em like they used to.