Skip to main content

And a big marvelous FUCK YOU goes out to...

You fucking music snobs

yeah, the ones who only listen to music no one else listens to

it doesn't make you unique. all it does is limit the pleasure music can give you because of your stupid intellectual misconceptions. The worst part of it is that you assume that everybody else is a moron because they share common interests. 


I don't think I can pretend to give a fuck anymore

I love pop music. I fucking LOVE it.

And if that makes you think poorly of me

Then you should take a look in the mirror

and ask yourself who the FUCK you think you are?

You are a pathetic little goblin

and you think that because your tastes are superior

that you in turn hold the cultural reins 

Why don't you turn around

Bend down and let me

fuck you gently with reality

You aren't worth anybody's time, and I'm sure you realize it. 

And if you didn't then, you do now. 


  1. do you really think you're starting a revolution by being unabashed about your like of pop music. you seem so angered by what you call "hipsters" or "music snobs" but all you do is glorify that invention-of-the-media, and allowed to control you.

    you need to get hip to terrance mckenna, and realize that culture is going to be your undoing. it has definitely stunted your intellectual breadth judging by this insipid commentary. to anyone who actually lives outside the box, the context of this article is completely weird.

    maybe you're just immature. who knows. i can't imagine the sort of angst fueled tripe i wrote at, what i assume to be, your age. my advice to you, young woman, is ages old: turn on, tune in, drop out.

    this seems simple enough. maybe you think you've already done it...

    but probably not. your issue is that you've built this idea of yourself as a rebel--as a deviant--as an artist. but it will have nothing to do with your hate of "hipsters"...and everything to do with your dismissal of public media.

    this is where your hate comes from: you consider yourself a true individual in the context of your world...but then there are these people who you see as posers, as image obsessed, as phony.

    but dear girl, you're buying into it. your disgust is it's own market share. your opposition only invokes the frame.

    your love of writing seems genuine. thats great. your art should connect with everything that humanity was before language. remember, language was a very late supplement to a humanity that had already learned to survive for a long time AND TRIUMPHANTLY.

    will you triumph?


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Can't Hear Your Little Red Rooster


I call this room Home.

He will not look at me

His eyes flicker with

a speck of violence.

my strained smile,

disgusted by

my pleading eyes.

my veins freeze

icy blood

tearing through coronaries

May Day

'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

A week earlier, drunk off self-pity, she had taken it out of its case and walked to the kitchen, where she stuck the barrel in her mouth and proceeded to take pictures of herself to send to Ray.

In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…