(no subject)
This disturbing and frankly offensive lack of posting on the part of almost everyone I know, except the random nonsense from Stevie Gunn, Alex, and possibly Jobi, has left me in a predicament. Mostly that now, I must take over. Fortunately for all of you, my lovely little livejournal minions, I feel like talking tonight. Not just talking. More like, venting. Or possibly, I don't know, what would you call it, Ah yes.. RANTING!! BAHAHA!! Prepare yourselves, mere mortals and slightly less than mortals!! Nothing is as it seems from here on in, and the best thing you can do is strap on your diapers, hold on to your strong drink or illegal smokeables, grow a beard like Grizzly Adams, and join me on this wonderful ride I call a livejournal post.
Man, that was a longwinded introduction. Down to brass tacks:
I have a serious problem. Hold please. My music has stopped, and I simply cannot continue.
Ah hah. Anyways, my problem is as thus. Nondescript female R&B singers(ie. Rihanna, Cassie, and every single one of the 8 to 12 PCDs, or, to the layperson, the Pussycat Dolls.) that have no real singing talent to speak of, and yet, they aquire immense amounts of popularity. Like, a metric ton(ne) of popularity. I don't care how into vocalists and dancers you are, what they do is not singing nor dancing. They spout other peoples words to a weirdly designed rythym, created by studio executives who are almost positive they know what it is that we, the youth, as an easily controlled portion of the culture wish to hear. And the dancing. Don't get me started. Actually, fuck you! I am getting started, and there's shit all you can do about it. Quit oppressing me, Nazi! They don't dance, they basically strike different sexy poses on top of tables, or chairs, or writhing on the floor, or in water, or fire, on trains, planes, with a goat, on a boat, and all other sorts of things that sound like they should be in a Seuss style book. Now, if you've ever seen old style jazz dancing, real ballroom dancing, or any of these things that actually take skill and look very beautiful in the process, you realize that this new breed of entertainer is a waste of time. The only problem is that the old ways are getting wiped out by new and bizarre forms of entertainment. We need to take all of the children, before they reach their insanely impressionable age of 11 and up, and teach them all about the real things, the true things, good literature, movies from 1979 through 1984, comic books, record players, and all these things. But not in the same sense that some of the people who think they're independent take them. Oh no. They must learn it my way. The right way. The only way. But unfortunately, I'm only one man, and thus, I can do almost no good. Especially since most of my great ideas are posted in here. On livejournal, and the rest of the world has no real way to see them. So here's the score, which awesomely segues into the other thing I wanted to talk about. All you people out there in LJland who read this. Go to publishers. Tell them I should write a book.
I really want to write a book. But not just any book. It needs to be the sort of book that is not allowed in schools until the students make a petition and get a whole shitload of signatures. It needs to be burned by the Catholics, Christians, Jews, Buddhists(even though they're passive) and anyone else who belongs to a group of any sort. Not joking. Baseball teams, hockey teams, quilting bees, spelling bees, bake sales. I don't give a shit. I want everyone who has children or parents to hate what this book says. I want people to destroy it without even reading it. And then, in 20 to 75 years, I want someone who had a copy, and didn't destroy it to leave it to his child in the will. And when they pick up this book, and read it, they're brain explodes from the ideals and situations contained within. But then, when the ambulance drives up, or floats up, or whatever, to take the body away, some little neighbor boy who was watching sneaks in and takes the book. And then, since a young mind is unsullied by the weight of the world, he'll actually understand. And he'll show the book to his friends. And they'll all get into it. The whole damn young community will start reading my book. If their parents find it, it gets burned. They remember the trouble it caused. But more and more copies begin to turn up. Finally, when the children get old enough, they'll hold rallies and festivals and riots and sit-ins and love-ins and parades, all in order to get my book back in print. And after 135 years, when I am dead and gone, and most of my illegitimate children are old and have kids of their own, my book will become immensely popular.
I want my book to be popular, but I want to never know about it.
Good times and badlands,
The Baron.
Man, that was a longwinded introduction. Down to brass tacks:
I have a serious problem. Hold please. My music has stopped, and I simply cannot continue.
Ah hah. Anyways, my problem is as thus. Nondescript female R&B singers(ie. Rihanna, Cassie, and every single one of the 8 to 12 PCDs, or, to the layperson, the Pussycat Dolls.) that have no real singing talent to speak of, and yet, they aquire immense amounts of popularity. Like, a metric ton(ne) of popularity. I don't care how into vocalists and dancers you are, what they do is not singing nor dancing. They spout other peoples words to a weirdly designed rythym, created by studio executives who are almost positive they know what it is that we, the youth, as an easily controlled portion of the culture wish to hear. And the dancing. Don't get me started. Actually, fuck you! I am getting started, and there's shit all you can do about it. Quit oppressing me, Nazi! They don't dance, they basically strike different sexy poses on top of tables, or chairs, or writhing on the floor, or in water, or fire, on trains, planes, with a goat, on a boat, and all other sorts of things that sound like they should be in a Seuss style book. Now, if you've ever seen old style jazz dancing, real ballroom dancing, or any of these things that actually take skill and look very beautiful in the process, you realize that this new breed of entertainer is a waste of time. The only problem is that the old ways are getting wiped out by new and bizarre forms of entertainment. We need to take all of the children, before they reach their insanely impressionable age of 11 and up, and teach them all about the real things, the true things, good literature, movies from 1979 through 1984, comic books, record players, and all these things. But not in the same sense that some of the people who think they're independent take them. Oh no. They must learn it my way. The right way. The only way. But unfortunately, I'm only one man, and thus, I can do almost no good. Especially since most of my great ideas are posted in here. On livejournal, and the rest of the world has no real way to see them. So here's the score, which awesomely segues into the other thing I wanted to talk about. All you people out there in LJland who read this. Go to publishers. Tell them I should write a book.
I really want to write a book. But not just any book. It needs to be the sort of book that is not allowed in schools until the students make a petition and get a whole shitload of signatures. It needs to be burned by the Catholics, Christians, Jews, Buddhists(even though they're passive) and anyone else who belongs to a group of any sort. Not joking. Baseball teams, hockey teams, quilting bees, spelling bees, bake sales. I don't give a shit. I want everyone who has children or parents to hate what this book says. I want people to destroy it without even reading it. And then, in 20 to 75 years, I want someone who had a copy, and didn't destroy it to leave it to his child in the will. And when they pick up this book, and read it, they're brain explodes from the ideals and situations contained within. But then, when the ambulance drives up, or floats up, or whatever, to take the body away, some little neighbor boy who was watching sneaks in and takes the book. And then, since a young mind is unsullied by the weight of the world, he'll actually understand. And he'll show the book to his friends. And they'll all get into it. The whole damn young community will start reading my book. If their parents find it, it gets burned. They remember the trouble it caused. But more and more copies begin to turn up. Finally, when the children get old enough, they'll hold rallies and festivals and riots and sit-ins and love-ins and parades, all in order to get my book back in print. And after 135 years, when I am dead and gone, and most of my illegitimate children are old and have kids of their own, my book will become immensely popular.
I want my book to be popular, but I want to never know about it.
Good times and badlands,
The Baron.