I woke up this morning brainstorming; desperately struggling to come up with a half-decent reason to leave my bed. After a solid hour I realized there was beer in the fridge and I needed a cigarette. With breakfast out of the way, (a couple non-lite beers provide the same caloric value as a bowl of cereal and some orange juice, plus the pick–me-up that convinces one for a few precious hours that life isn’t the steaming pile of shit it seems,) I sat down to watch the news.
I was wrong in my assumption that MSNBC’s unrepentant liberalism would cheer me up, as the morning time slot consists of three hours of “Morning Joe,” a show in which a stuffy old conservative prick rants about how “socialist” Obama is and consistently cuts off his co-host while slurping on a frothy Starbuck’s girly-drink that’s gayer than two republican senators with some KY jelly. I hammered off an insulting email to the producers concerning not only his flawed political ideologies, but the severe mistake they were making in having him host the show rather than one of the more liberal female co-hosts who’d surely increase male viewer-ship drastically. After this I looked up some footage on the Grammy’s, which I’m glad I missed, and regret my unfounded curiosity.
Paul McCartney corrected some of my own assumptions by proving that I was wrong in feeling that poverty, war, and global warming were some of the greater issues facing our world. There’s something far worse: Sad washed up old piles of shit that drag their previous bands’ songs from the crypt to re-slaughter them in front of a crowd of rich, hipster assholes. Other revelations included indications that Stevie Wonder is blind also to the fact that his career ate it years ago, that the Jonas Brothers blow harder than Randy Newman’s pool boy, and that Chris Brown is a fucking moron for doing anything to jeopardize his relationship with arguably the most do-able woman of all time.
It isn’t news that the world is shittier than Sally Struthers’ rectum. Hell, we live to fight wars based on asinine religious prophecies and antiquated sources of natural energy, you can’t fucking smoke in a bar, and people still listen to that asshole Jim Kramer when he tells them where to stick their hard-earned money. But please, for the love of God, can we at least keep art sacred? There is nothing…nothing left save for a pile of old vinyls, a Dead Prez poster and some scratchy CDs to remind me that at one point, music wasn’t a waste of my time. Luckily I avoided the low point of the evening, which was Miley Cyrus' performance, but on the morning news, Courtney Hazlett (my future baby-momma) described it as the screeching cacophony of a dying feline. How right I’m sure she was. I can’t escape imagining the fiasco however, and it makes my soul hurt to know that a whole generation is being blindly raised on this bile.
It used to be that you had to cut off your ear or have the balls to kill yourself with drugs and alcohol to be praised as a true artistic mind. Now these fuckers just live forever and drag sad, loyal fans behind their bandwagons of shit. Even so called “intelligent” people are catastrophically unaware of artists like Ian Curtis, Jason Thirsk and Richard Manuel, who were too busy making real music to develop moronic new publicity stunts and collaborations to keep the attention of a dim-witted populace.
“Popular” music is about as stupid as democracy in a society full of so many mouth-breathing, sun-gazing assholes that would rather base their musical taste on who gets paid to sing a Pepsi commercial than who’s created a meaningful work of art. Americans are fucking stupid and wouldn’t know real artistic value if it raped them in the mouth. This, I suppose, isn’t a surprise as it corresponds with every other of our backwards beliefs. It explains also why so many pricks waste their time and money, and OUR natural resources on shitty CDs, shitty clothes, and useless NASCAR trinkets advertised in the back of PARADE magazine.
I’m sick of putting forth any concerted effort to do anything about our current situation, as it seems nobody else gives a shit anyway. Atop it all, the entire US health department is a boatload of shit-eating liars, because the only redeeming quality to my day was getting hammered, and when I look back to recall the last time I was happy, I realize I was hammered then too…and so it goes for the past several years of my life. They seem to feel this is what you'd call an unhealthy addiction, but the truth is, before drinking I was uncool AND unhappy the vast majority of the time. People are wasteful, slothish, short-sighted, and have no appreciation for the arts and other things that require some level of introspection; if I have to share an ecosystem with these dicks, I'd prefer to be passed out and piss-drunk. Art is dead and music is nothing but a bunch of show off 14-year old pop stars, because that’s all these lazy pricks can handle amidst lives full of stupid electronic gadgets that convince them that they actually aren’t just doing and talking about absolutely nothing.
If someone can think of a better way to deal with this fucking mess than drinking excessively until I die of alcohol poisoning or my liver explodes, feel free to share, but I fucking swear, if you say “God,” or a support group I’ll kick your damn teeth in. God dropped the ball on the inquisition, the slaughter of countless Native Americans and the holocaust to name a few, and there's no evidence to support the idea he'll wake up now. This world is in serious trouble, and I require a serious solution…And there’s nothing more serious than the head buzz you get from knocking back vodka tonics in rapid succession. The hangover is just an indicator that society’s ills are finding their way back into your frame of consciousness, and a trip to the liquor store is in order. If you're still trying to figure out which part of this was supposed to be funny, burn your face off with an arc welder and die, piss-on.
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