Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Country music

Is it even necessary to point out how vapid and soul sucking country music is? This isn't referring to the likes of Johnny Cash of course. Despite his re-found, wormfood-induced popularity he is still a Bad Ass.

No. This is about the Kenny Chesneys, Toby Keiths, and Rascall Flatts of the world. I'm not anti-queer in the least, but the pure gayness of Kenny, Toby and their cowboy friends offends me. Not because they are gay (which they most certainly are), but because they sell their macho, hairy chested, leather daddy act as all-American wholesome manliness to homophobic housewives and the drunken, impotent men who beat them. These flag-waving, Ford-driving shit fer brains would choke on their chicken nuggets if they knew their real American heroes engaged in regular bouts of slap-and-tickle with eachother backstage at the CMA.

And all this might even be OK if only the "music" weren't, well, what it is... Whatever it is.

And to be fair, these urban fairies are only following the lead of others who came before them to prove that Wal-Mart shoppers everywhere love queer cowboys and are willing to shell out the cash to listen to them — all the while secretly wishing they could beat them up and fuck them. Not necessarily in that order.

Consider this example from 1985:This Village People get-up and Yee-haw ode to the American workin' man earned these monkey dicks their 17th number one hit — three more than Johnny Cash had in his lifetime.

Nuff said?

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