Friday, May 23, 2014

Ugly Icky Nikki Minaj

Birthday, Mother's Day, Valentine's Day, whatever...you go to buy the lady some perfume, and see THIS:

WTF...

It's a bottle of stink licensed by icky Nikki Minaj, an ugly skank with big tits. That's what the standard is, pretty much. Ugly skank with big tits or (Kim Kart Trashian) big ass.

Woman as Ho.

Put on some slow, moody Miles Davis, because here comes an elegy. No snarky humor to it. No sardonic wit. It's a sad tune...

My world is going, going, gone. Not THE world, which is in almost as bad shape, with climate change and poison in our food...

I'm talkin' about MY world. When I was a kid, people still listened to Beethoven and Mozart. Really listened. There were still maestros out there, such as Bernstein, Ormandy and Szell, and artistes including Rubinstein, Horowitz and Casals. Oh. Segovia. Now, can you name a classical pianist working today? At best you might come up with cellist Yo-Yo Ma because of the stupid name. Conductor? No.

When I was a kid, jazz was important. Big band music was still something people listened to. Now...nobody under 30 knows the names Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, or even Miles Davis. If they do know the names, they don't have any of the music, that's for sure.

When I was a kid, people talked about books. There were even "Classics Illustrated" comic books. Now, how many under 30 could tell you who wrote "Frankenstein" even, or "Dracula?" How many ever read Hemingway or Steinbeck even? Poe? No way Charles Dickens or Shakespeare.

Need I go on?

This depressing bottle of stink tells you that "culture" is on the endangered list. Perfume bottles used to be beautiful. They could even be avant garde, with the cash-in stuff on Dali. Now? Ugh. Double ugh. Our standard of beauty is a trashy fat-assed bitch like Kart Trashian? A half breed monster like Minaj?

There was a time when people snickered over paintings on black velvet, and the crappy art Bob Ross and other "you can paint" TV show idiots sketched. The masses may have collected hideous Hummels, but they did not consider the apex of collecting to be every Barbie or Furby or Beanie Baby.

As late as 10 years ago...creative people had some idea that what they did would live on...and there might be people listening to their songs, enjoying their art, reading their poetry and novels...and those hopes have been dashed. Nobody collects magazines, nobody wants books or DVDs or CDs or records. Even if this planet wasn't doomed...the fact is, the monsters inheriting this planet have ZERO TASTE.

Things that were revered a few years ago...are now considered ridiculous and worthless. "Casablanca" or "Citizen Kane?" They mean nothing to today's jerks under 30. They sure as hell aren't going to sit still for the mime of Chaney or Chaplin. Even The Beatles have lost ground, and most jerks under 30 barely have heard anything by John Lennon beyond "Imagine," which they probably find as corny as we found Kate Smith.

The glory that was Greece? The grandeur that was Rome? The museums of the world filled with priceless treasures? Bookstores with leather bound classics? NO. No. No. No. Today's idiots spend their money on Viley Virus concert tickets. On overpriced bad food from franchise restaurants run by chefs they see in TV. They spend a fortune in America on ugly sneakers hawked by cynical basketball millionaires. Air Jordans, man! Yo! YO! They spend a fortune in England on Banksy graffiti and on trashy clothes from color blind designers.

Some things die a natural death, like stamp and coin collecting. OK, these are too "sedentary," and we can download and print out a zillion little colorful images so why spend thousands on stamps? People like video games and watching action on TV...jingling coins isn't such fun.

It used to be that tasteless things like an icky Nikki bottle of perfume, would be off to the corner somewhere. If an art store had a painting on black velvet or one of children with giant sad eyes, it would not be prominently displayed. It might only be available in Times Square and catering to tourists. Now, bad taste and clueless shit rule. Mexican fast food joints pop up every time a classy store folds. Sneaker stores take over from bookstores.

It's not racist to mourn the decline of white culture. Not if you're white. You're a stranger in your own land. Everyone speaks another language. Aside from the surviving fat cats who live above the rabble, whites are forced to exist in an environment of hideous ethnic music, nauseating ethnic food smells, and the psychotic behavior of animalistic swine who live their lives in a violent state of surly hostility toward anyone who doesn't share their beliefs. It's a fucking miracle if the "new neighbors" are as quiet or pleasant as the old ones, and if they'll respect you or your property or the neighborhood itself...and don't foul it with trash, unleashed dogs and insane picnics that seem more like brawls.

You can't really talk to the ethnics too much, because they not only don't share your culture...they don't want to! Their idea of a good time is bashing a pinata and having candy fall out. They like cock fights and having a goat on a barbecue. They want loud music with stupid lyrics.

Yeah, I know, we had "Hut Sut Song" and "Ba-ba-ba Ba-bara Ann," and you wouldn't want your neighbor to be a rich white asshole blasting Tchaikovsky on his Bose. But the other side of it is now so low class...

Whatever happened to class?

I'm not a snob. Bounty or Mounds...that's still a pretty good candy bar. You don't necessarily have to buy a piece of chocolate that costs a fortune. But you should know the difference. You should know what quality is. You should be able to tell the difference between a fine wine and swill, and fine perfume from stink, and Beethoven from Beiber. Even if you like a lyric that's nothing but "Fuck da Ho, Bust a Cap, Umbrella Ella Ella," you should also be able to appreciate, or at least respect, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."

But no. I grow old, I grow old...and the beach is full of noisy bastards with blasting radios and big fat bodies covered in tattoos.

A good thing? Who knows. I don't think so, but I'm white. I do remember when people screamed that The Beatles were just noisy idiots with bad animal hair, even as young kids were screaming "YES." So is it possible that it's a good future where asses and lips are gigantic, everyone's brown, thudding music is blasting in the air, and goat meat and spicy tacos are sold on street corners? It's possible.

But I don't think so. Seems more like hell.

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