Alright, I’m way too tired to make a half-decent post…

Last updated on March 17th, 2021 at 08:40 am

You’ll get that when I wake up in the morning. Instead, I present you with a rhyme I’ll be working on for when I drop my EP. (If you’ve been talking to me, you know one is kinda planned.) I’d love to know what my LJ friends, comprised of mainly non-rhymers, think of it. Merci beaucoup and goodnight.

Alright, so I came up with this after seeing a woman read a copy of the Enquirer faithfully. It probably needs a helluva lot of work, but eventually, I’m hoping to polish it and include it on an EP. Ah well, give it a look and let me know what you think. I scribbled it out on the bus this morning. I did some editing as I typed it up.


You could’ve got your hands on quality literature
But seem more interested with celebrity furniture
Y’all get high on the Star, I interrogate the Enquirer
If you read the Weekly Sun, man, I ain’t gonna admire ya
You trust Soap Opera Weekly as your TV Guide
You know it better than the Bible—the tube’s your joy and pride
You’re fickle, affected by tales on Affleck
Wonderin how many hickeys lie on Jennifer’s neck
I guess that’s more interesting than 1984 or Roots
You rather read text with the complexity of Puss in Boots
Shakespeare would be rolling in his grave to know
That his plays’ve been butchered by kids like DiCaprio
It seems that there’s a crisis when all the middle-aged females
Instead of furthering education school themselves on the e-mails
That incriminated so-and-so of whatever administration
Y’all trapped under the hell of the media’s ministrations


Y’all keep reading up on your trash magazines
You take the garbage for gospel in your trash magazines
Y’all use rhetoric from the rubbish in your trash magazines
Your brains are dead from the bullshit in your trash magazines
Y’all keep reading up on your trash magazines
You take the garbage for gospel in your trash magazines
Y’all use rhetoric from the rubbish in your trash magazines
Your brains are dead from the bullshit in your trash magazines


Don’t think the problem stops with the generation after
We still got the same shit, just in a different wrapper
You got Cosmo, YM, Maxim, let’s not forget Stuff
Talkin bout how to please your man, how to keep that body buff
They’re five percent informative and ninety-five manipulation
I tend to think Sunday Funnies give out better information
It’s all over, the media’s got your minds on lock
It’s in the things that we do, and in the people we mock
It’s in the things we strive for, and in the places we flock
They want us all to conform, and is it ever gon’ stop?
I don’t think so, it’s much harder to be an individual
Most of us would settle for that everyday ritual
Mask your face with the make-up, tangle the gel in your hair
Make sure your skirt’s above your knee, g’head and stuff ya underwear
Call your friends up, act like you don’t care what people do to you
And continue to let the magazines control what you do



What you gonna do? (What you gonna do)
When the Media Monster makes it way to claim you?
I said what you gonna do? (What what you gonna do?)
When the Media Monster sets its gaze upon you?


Let’s take it one — step — further
To a generation immersed with images of illicit doings like murder
The Net’s feeding them fragments of a fictional truth
They’re badly belittled by adults as belligerent youth
Like when the 6-year-old shot Karla at Buell Elementary
Why would he do it? The solution to that’s quite elementary
Our North America values violence, sex, and controversy
You can’t change the channel without seeing it, my mama cries “Mercy…
“Mercy Me, what that’s crap you’re watching on the TV?
I don’t want that propaganda in my home for my kids to see!”
Too bad it was the 6 o’clock news
Misrepresenting the world with distorted lenses and their cock-eyed views
Who to trust? It’s dangerous out there
Misinformation is abundant—it’s like the suits don’t care
You gotta play your part and keep your own mind clean
And step one is getting rid of the trash magazines.

The second logo for Casey Palmer, Canadian Dad

By Casey E. Palmer

Husband. Father. Storyteller.

Calling the Great White North his home, Casey Palmer the Canadian Dad spend his free time in pursuit of the greatest content possible.

Thousand-word blog posts? Snapshots from life? Sketches and podcasts and more—he's more than just a dad blogger; he's working to change what's expected of the parenting creators of the world.

It's about so much more than just our kids.

When Casey's not creating, he's busy parenting, adventuring, trying to be a good husband and making the most of his life!

Casey lives in Toronto, Ontario.

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