Friday, March 9, 2007

Sometimes I worry about my sense of proportion

Like when I write stuff like this (regarding American Idol):
You can have your high drama and heart-warming dreams-made-real. The end product is still the worst, godawful music - horribly sung in that tedious, overly-affected American Idol faux-soul way - that Western culture has so far managed to produce.

It's worse than gangsta rap.

American Idol and the oh so carefully produced noises it gives us is the musical equivalent of art shows that feature nothing but "installation" pieces consisting of crucifixes soaking in jars of urine. Crucifixes soaking in jars of urine is only "art" to a culture that has grown too stupid to know the difference between good art and jars of [piss] with crucifixes in them. (It's too easy to blame pop-art jackasses like Warhol. I blame all of your parents instead for not having the courage, or possibly the brains to begin with to admit that they didn't know Warhol was simply a practical joker of the first order.)

Who cares that the voting is in the hand of the American Public. Isn't it the American Public we need to blame for making Howard Stern and his cavalcade of mental defectives and moral idiots rich and famous? Isn't it the American Public that makes it possible for notorious spit-dribblers like Ann Coulter and Bill Maher to laugh (wetly) all the way to the bank?

Honestly. Pull your ears out of your hinders, people. Go listen to some Beethoven or something. Hell - go listen to a Buzzcocks CD. You'll find more music in 1 minute of Pete Shelley's screechy vocals than in an entire season of American Idol.

No. Don't argue. Just do it.
Over the top? Maybe. I really hate American Idol, but I suppose I shouldn't hate the people that like it. After all, I do listen to the Buzzcocks, so do I really have a leg to stand on here?

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