Fucking Jesus. I was doing some disengaged channel-hopping on Foxtel (I still call it Austar, it’s a Tasmanian thing) while slovenly lounging on the couch this evening and ended up watching a bit of Channel V’s ‘The Rock Show’ for a few agonising, unfortunately irretrievable minutes. Their definition of rock is somewhat loose, to say the least. I was exposed to a band by the name of ‘Hot Chelle Rae’ on the show tonight, their apparently hit single, ‘Whatever’ being the selected fare for the evening. By the way, off course their song is named ‘Whatever’, what a bunch of straight-laced, greens-eating, God-fearing fuckwits.) It’s as if they weren’t convinced that their collective statuses of being known as, ‘The Whitest Motherfuckers on the Planet’ were in jeopardy and decided to get on the front foot and solidify their reputations.

The song was the sort of generic, pandering, formulaic tripe that gets aimed directly at the young teen market. Why? Because all a teen needs is a good looking lead singer (male or female) and they’ll then happily max out their parents’ credit cards out buying every single song ever written by that artist or group while subtly grinding their genitalia on the nearest couch cover. I honestly think that there should be an age restriction to purchasing music; you should have to be 18 years old and have passed a suitable entrance exam.

All I can say is, I fear for the kids 10 years younger than me growing up listening to this shit; what sorts of petulant fucking assholes are they going to turn into if they’re listening to this utter bollocks day in, day out? I listened to The Presidents of the United States of America smashing out tracks like Lump & Volcano and they listen to this?

I feel like it’s inevitable that the whole World is eventually going to implode under the untenable weight of sexting teenagers as their technology gets more and more sophisticated (and they get less and less intelligent). You know how sometimes now when someone asks you to go somewhere, the first instinctive action is to reach for the nearest smartphone and type in the street address, ensuring that you’ll never actually know where you are or where you’re going ever again, instead turning into a drone at the mercy of your maps program.

Now imagine that that feeling for absolutely everything, because that’s where we’re headed.

May God have mercy on their souls…

/end communication

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