GIVE A DOG A BONE

With thanks to the Larst Viking.

Not quite like the Southpark episode where the 4 boys take turns to play with the dog's pink lipstick, but close...

I meant to write "Give it a rest..." but that just came out and I don't have the patience or inclination to change it. Fuck! How much more of this ridiculous "dick pic" nonsense must we the South African public, have to put up with? We're bombarded with it on every platform, be it social satire or serious news. I thought these kinds of adolescent pictures were the mating ritual of ill educated, teenage Chatroulette fiends in the USA... For fuck's sake apparently the defence attorney for King Ding(gaan)aling broke down in an emotion flow of tears in the court. Whilst, get this, urgently seeking an interdict against anyone in the Universe showing the picture that has already been censored/defaced/had the rude bit covered up.
I feel like saying "Quit 'Stalin' and get on with service delivery..."

And yes, I realise the irony of writing and complaining about people writing about it. At least I've stopped giving JuJu blogspace. Fuck, there I went and gave him some. It's a good thing he's not a Southpark character. Cartman would have a field day with him...

Anyway, onto more mundane subjects. The radio is on in the office. It is the latest in a series of unwarranted punishments meted out on us under the guise of "getting more in touch with the industry". Balls! It's cruel and unusual punishment. Being in the music industry was cool as long as I was allowed to spew my aloof and condescending viewpoints from the safe distance of a handy nearby cliff (NOT Gareth, who knows about as much as the sink in my kitchen). A place so far removed from the autotuned dross the public feeds on that claiming superiority was entirely unnecessary. A place reserved for the informed few. Those of taste and culture.

I just had my ears raped by "Aaaaaaah, no!" Carstens and a lovely little ditty composed on his iPhone using the dubstep app. No doubt on the toilet. No wonder the greats are dying off. It's obviously a last gasp (terminal) attempt to escape the noise pollution.

To be fair, the criticism levelled at what constitutes pop music these days should in equal amounts be dished out to the makers of more alternative music as well, lest you think me biased. Just because your mom can afford to buy you some speaker monitors to go with the pc in your bedroom doesn't mean you have the inherent right to write and record music. If at first you don't succeed, by all means, try, try again. But please. For fuck's sake. Apply some common sense and listen to the product carefully and preferably as objectively as possible before deciding it's good enough to paste it all over the intrawebnets. I mean, really!

And on that note, it is once again time to Neal before the ever erudite Goldwyer:
NGDG: "Owing to the pestilential fug that is the winter Highveld atmosphere, I have been forced to wear my dickhead glasses. No one has said anything negative. Maybe I am the only person who hates popular culture after all."

Spread The Love. I See A Dick Pic And I Want To Paint It Black!