Like Screeching In My Ear
There's only so much you can rant about before you upset someone. And I think the time has come for me! I sit there pushing scan on my radio, listening to pieces of garbled horribly super synthesized "songs." They call it music. I call it verbal diarrhea. "Baby I like it The way you move on the floor Baby I like it Come on and give me some more" Really? How many times have we heard that in a pop song? My tolerance for Enrique Igaysias is slowly coming to an end. Back in the day, he actually had substanstial songs, about love and loss. Now he's down there sucking scum with Pitbull making the world's deepest music, howling and recording his screechy voice on every refried pop beat. "You know what it is girl, we back up in this thang Money stay in my pocket, girl, I'm like a walkin' bank Tell me whatcha drank, tell me whatcha thank If I go get these bottles, we go alcohol insane" Wow. Edgar Allan Poe doesn't have jack on ...