It’s about time for Simon Cowell, Louis Walsh and the rest of them to die from a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or a .22 to the back of the head, whichever is easiest to organise.
These bolloxes are taking what I and many others love – real music – and turning it into a pap, shitty product to make themselves look big. And I don’t really care if that’s how the music “business” has “always worked”. The simple truth is that they produce soulless and meaningless rubbish, sung by pretty but pointless morons.
Well just fuck the fuck off, you shits.
And if you know so fucking much about “music”, Mr. Cowell, then why have so few of the idiot mannequins you have produced with your “show” made anything worth listening to? I’ll tell you why – because they are garbage. And because you have the penis of a small squirrel.
Hey, maybe if we all download the hell out of every shitty music “product” served up by these idiots, maybe we can break their balls. So let’s make this clear – I absolutely advocate the downloading and distribution of any and all rubbish musical “products” coming from moronic TV shows such as Idol and X-factor and Posers Sing Pap or whatever the hell they are called.
On the brighter side, there is a campaign currently under way to get some more appropriate Xmas songs into the number one position by cleverly buying them online. Plans are afoot to push Malcolm Middleton’s brilliantly catchy “We’re all going to die” to the top of the charts in the UK, and Tom Wait’s “Christmas Card From a Hooker In Minneapolis” in Ireland.
The site for the Tom Waits effort is here, and the blog of Mr. Graham Linehan gives more details here. Basically you buy the tunes from a download service and you do your bit to remove shit music from the top position.
I am even considering installing iTunes just to download these songs, even though normally I would refuse to install a software product by Apple where the first letter is small and the second one large. But I can make an exception just this once.
This is our chance to make Christmas real and miserable again. Or, as Graham Linehan puts it, at last we can stick it to the men who make their living “selling children’s music to slow adults.”
And a merry Xmas to all.