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12:27 AM -- 2006-03-06
Oscars 2006 and a Lament for Country Music

Mothers hide your daughters, because the three-six mafia is at your local post Oscar partay.

This was a bangin year for movies.... no more of this Shakespeare in Love shit... the time has come for high-brow period pieces. And did I mention to give my pimps-up to three-six mafia?

It was a George Clooney name-droppin night. To his credit though, he did seem humble with Jon Stewart's mouth on his dick the whole time. Whats up with that? Clooney's a peach though, and that man is got the gravitas essential to defining his generation.

Mega pimps up to Phil Hoffman... I've been following that cat's work for years, and its about fucking time the academy recognizes bloody brilliant game.

The verdict isn't in yet, but I think Reese Witherspoon might've stolen Julia's 'cute' championship belt. No matter how you slice it, that girl is like a woodland creature, cute enough to spawn a string of animated Disney movies.

Thinking of Johnny Cash, I've been doing alot of studying on the state of music today. I'll start tonite with a spitball of thoughts on Country music.

So far as my observations have concluded, country music died in the years of 79-81. Know that I blame the 80's for alot of damage done to the music industry. Synthesizers are weapons of mass destruction, and have a varied history of ruining once pure music. Try comparing the production quality of an early George Jones track with a Keith Whitley track, circa 1986. Its sad to see the dehumanizing result of letting some Quincy Jones wannabe fuck with your jams.

The haunting tales of Hank Williams and lonesome laments of Gary Stewart are no longer resonate in this 'new country'. Douchebags like Big n Rich aren't men of constant sorrow, but yokel monkeys on strings, dancing for pocketchange. Stupid clown bitches.

One theory of mine is the lack of focus on hard liquor in country music. This new school of thought called "blue collar" america revolves on two things: Coors Light and fart jokes. The true greats of 70's honky tonk, like Terry Reid and early David Alan Coe focused on potent spirits to drown sorrows. Drinking whiskey is like saying, "Yea, I'm drinking... and for fuckssake, I mean it." Beer is a beverage of suburban block parties. I feel like the transition from whiskey to beer is a move to placate the masses into a fat, slow drunk stupor. And from the looks of it... the plan is bloody working. An example is that the Jeff Foxworthy of the 90's has transformed into the more rotund caricature of Larry the Cable Guy. If my calculations are correct.... the implosion of intelligence in middle america will complete in five, four, three...

So in appropriate melancholy, I despair for a now lost american tradition. Country music resides in the archives of yesteryear, and the rest will perish with time. All things are cyclical, so its simply a waiting game to see when the world comes around. Back to sanity, for chrissake.

God bless you Johnny Cash, even though that dreamboat Joaquin has a hairlip scar. But I ain't hatin', yo.

The Ninja, kickin' one for the backlogues... signing off...

Sa Da Tay!