Hip-pop: The Death of Music

Everyone has different opinions of good music. You might cherish Shaq's Greatest Hits (which unbelievably exists) whereas your neighbor, God forbid, might enjoy the musical styling of an inspirational Yanni album to compliment a self-choreographed interpretive dance sequence with all 15 of their cats (or whatever the hell else fans of Yanni do.) And while he may be, in your opinion, the best songwriter of this or any generation, being the founder and sole member of his Facebook group does not make it true.

The music industry has been on a downward spiral ever since the release of such gems as "Walk It Out" and "Party Like a Rockstar", which both make about as much sense as crowd surfing at an Air Supply concert. Don't get me wrong, I realize and appreciate the dance functionality of both songs/being able to safely dry hump a stranger's leg in a dark club, but both contain the equivalent musical charisma of an old drunk person shouting at passing cars. With this new trend in music (mixing a 3rd grade vocabulary with obscenities and going all night with sexual references) I'm afraid we're flirting with the Armageddon of music. And not the reassuring, "Ben Affleck and Bruce Willis hold hands and save us before the credits roll" Armageddon. I'm talking about the real thing.

Screenshot from Armageddon.

Don't you ever wonder why we've never really had another Led Zeppelin or Pink Flloyd in this generation? Or why James Taylor and Peter Frampton end up on cell phone and Geico commercials? It's not because people have stopped making good music. It's because good music is now defined by a society that favors mindless, emotion-free, mainstream pop over soulful, revolutionary, musical poetry. I personally don't want to grow up in a world where music classes teach "How to Properly Superman that Ho" and "Bitches and Hos: A History of Pimpin' That Ain't Easy".

The times are definitely changing and younger generations are changing with it. They're being told what to like by mass media (otherwise known as "The Man") and as the appreciation for music slowly waters itself down like an Ice Cube album at WalMart, we're forced to rethink our own appreciation for music. Because even though we still have a handful of rock and roll powerhouses staggering onto stages across the world, they are going to die someday (see Keith Richards) and all that will be left are DJ Unk and Soulja Boy. Can you imagine your sweet little angel faced kids calling THAT classic rock? Well I sir, cannot.

So the next time you're at a bar and hear one of the aforementioned piles of crap on the dance floor, close your eyes and try to imagine the artist and record label execs realistically brainstorming the idea of a song centered around "licking it like a lollipop". It really makes you question whether or not the record label execs are actually immature 2nd graders that still laugh at the word "poop" and make hand turkeys out of construction paper and the glue they just tried to eat. There's not a whole lot of creative juices flowing around that studio. If you don't believe me, check out the sheer poetry of the lyrics on Google. I can't post them here because of the flat-out vulgarity, but it's very similar to what I imagine a script looks like for a poorly directed adult film.

Now, if you'll excuse me I have to finish the song I've been working on for the past 15 minutes entitled "Who wants a footlong?"

Additionally, that's what she said.

Traffic makes angry an understatement

Since I've moved to Chicago, I've been presented with the unfortunate punch in the rectum we call commuting. Conversations recently for me have unraveled something like this:

Person: So you commute every morning? I'll bet that sucks. What's it like?
Me: It's like watching the movie Gigli in slow motion while the person you hate most in the world shreds all the money in your bank account and makes out with the girl you love, all the while sitting on a bonfire with gasoline pants on.
Person: I like Gigli.
Me: You're a dick.

Traffic.

No matter how many people pose the question "What causes traffic?" I have yet to hear an answer that doesn't piss me off even more. Really, if it were any logical answer, I would probably still be upset, but I would accept it. Even if someone were to say "Well, every weekday the magical asshole fairy frolics to each interstate, dropping an unnecessary amount of cars and terrible drivers across the land. And just to add sprinkles to the turd, he tops it all off with tolls, the occasional fender bender, and construction, racking on an additional fortnight's time to get home." Not cool magical asshole fairy. Not cool.

But alas, I am left to deal with this corporal punishment and watch my restraint for road rage fly out of the window (at a stop-and-go pace of less than 3 mph.) And with all of my experience in the field, I have come to the conclusion that there are basically three types of people that occupy the road today:

1. The "Lemming"- This type of driver will only switch lanes or move when the person in front of them switches lanes or moves. The driver develops an imaginary bond with the dominant car similar to that of Frodo and Samwise Gamgee. "I made a promise Mr. Frodo to never keep you out of my sight, and I don't intend to break that promise." Don't be Samwise...he's a passive sidekick that played Rudy. Never forget that.
2. The "Bluetooth Douche"- This type of driver loses all possibility of retaining rationality as soon as the engine starts. A rush hour commute for a person of this type is like playing a game of Frogger for the right to keep their first-born son. Although rare, a certain variation of this type does exist without the presence of a Bluetooth headset, but its almost as rare as a clown without the creepy.
3. The "What Would Jesus Do?"- This type of driver is the most scarce and is on the verge of extinction. Generally seen leaving occasional gaps for drivers to switch lanes and waving when someone lets them into the flow, this elusive driver has been sought out by protection agencies for years, but is slowly being killed off by the predatory Bluetooth Douches. The protection of this endangered group is eminent in keeping a small margin of quickly depleting sanity in the atmosphere.

So the next time you raise your middle finger in traffic or break your hands hitting the steering wheel, think about which category you fall under. Get yourself a WWJD bracelet if you need to. Because if you're on the fence about whether or not you're helping or hurting, than you're definitely hurting. Now stop reading this and go get yourself a Bluetooth headset.

Introduction

I'm a pretty passive person by nature, but many of you that know me also know that I can get fired up when something really grinds my gears. I know what you're thinking...what could I possibly get upset about? Truthfully, a lot of things. Here is a small sampling: Hummers, drunk people that say "I'm not drunk", the villain from the movie "The Patriot" (if you don't agree with me than you're not American), and any song written by Dashboard Confessional (if you're thinking "Hey that's not fair, DC is a great band", than you're obviously a registered douche bag that should be stabbed with a spoon.) So I decided to start an uncensored blog that would allow me to vent on what really pisses me off and lately, the list has been growing.