Korean Pop Music

This audio recording, from the much overrated New Yorker magazine (obviously their website, as attaching a CD to print would be so 90's) shows why people don't take man-babies seriously.

The first few minutes start with the show plugging their other segments, so you can skip that.  What I want you to focus on is the giant, self styled man (baby) who has the same musical tastes as a teenage girl.  Of course, in this age of early maturation, that means he has the same tastes as a nine year old.  Congratulations on admitting that in public, you closet paedophile.

Not that I am one to criticise musical tastes of course - I often tell people to listen to the Mars Volta whom I adore, but no one else does.  It's basically music for the sake of music, and they only seem to play crazy, irreverent stuff that only appeals to themselves.  I'm exceedingly selfish, so I assume that kind of self-gratification (steady) suits my 'style.'

I also like some country and western, classical, drum and bass (particularly dubstep, if that's even a sub-genre?), jazz and exactly one rap song.  Therefore, my tastes are fairly ill-defined, and it would be difficult to pinpoint a single genre I listen to most.  I would imagine, quite to the surprise of a few, old world chinese music with flutes and whatnot is probably my most listened to genre.  It's fantastic for relaxing, and with my track record with the ungodly realm of sleep, that's quite a useful property.

Anyway, the reason for this particular rant is simple.  Korean pop music; contrary to the moniker, is not actually music.  It's garbage.  It's trash.  The paedophile speaking for the New Yorker, openly says the main attraction is the visual aesthetic.  That is to say, mostly naked asian girls dancing around a lot.  That, therefore, isn't music.  It's dance.

Every.  Single.  Asian.  Pop.  Song.

All the same.  All of them.  They are all the same.  They are interchangeable, to the point of the very 'humans,' themselves being no more than shells, removable façades on the face of humanoid automatons - incapable of showing emotion, eschewing it in favour of puerile 'sex appeal.'  I say puerile because it's marketed for youngsters, kids who don't get any of it.  But they want more.  Holy shit, they want more.  I've never heard of a phenomenon where someone came up with an idea, then replicated it a billion times without changing a single thing about it, and the audience kept buying.  Even chocolate bars release new flavours once a decade or so.  These guys, they've been doing this for twenty years.

They'll keep doing it for twenty more.

I think it's because asians don't have a boredom threshold.  Honestly.

Think about it for a second.  Asians have the worst eyesight in the world, not because they lack vitamins (that was originally thought to be the problem) but because they don't get enough direct sunlight (the newest hypothesis for the increase in childhood short-sightedness, the one I most subscribe to).  It can affect 90% of individuals in certain places.  Why aren't they getting enough sunlight?  They're indoors doing their homework.  Then they're playing games where the main objective is to do the same thing, for hundreds of hours.  Assuming that not everyone who reads this is a nerd, there exists a subset of games created by, and for, the various asian markets that require hundreds, if not thousands of hours be poured into them for no purpose other than to... do whatever.  There's never a story, you just kill a million monsters for the sake of killing a million monsters.  There's never a plot, never a system to manipulate or break, never a challenge to overcome, never any reward at the end.  You do it, to do it.  And then you repeat it a hundred thousand times.  I can't begin to describe how mind-numbing it all is.

They have often tried to export these games to the west.  Every time, the community collectively writes a nasty letter back, often with a sacrificial horse head, intimating that the head is foreshadowing what will befall the game developer, should they try to foist their shit on us again.

This mind-bending ability to turn their brains off is great in certain situations.  If I wanted something built really quickly, with no regard for safety, to exacting specifications, I would hire chinese to do it.  I would hire a westerner to manage them, because we are lazy and want to do the most amount of work for the least effort.  In business terms that means more money for less work.  Bonus.

It's these traits that ensured the Japanese were catapulted out of world war two with enough momentum to become the then second, and now third largest economy in the world.  It's also the reason why, when the alien arachnids come from outer space to take over the earth, I recommend forming vast armies of japanese, korean, indian and chinese soldiers, under the command of american, german and french generals.

Why no english?  At this point, on the global stage, we're an overweight OAP, involving ourselves where we shouldn't and acting stupid, embarrassing ourselves like a collective group of imbeciles (I suggest the collective noun be, simply, english.  An english of imbeciles).  As such, we should just sit out the oncoming galactic war, and barter trade agreements or something.



Aaaaaanyway...

So far we have learned that korean, japanese and chinese pop music sucks balls.

Now we learn that one of the rugby league fraternity has lost one, following on from a final defeat.  I can't get over the fact he played on.  Jesus, that's impressive.  Dumb, but tough.  I'm not going to make any puns here, you can all probably come up with a dozen better ones than me, so I won't even bother.



So that's all the interesting news out of the way, now for me.  I was terribly sick this week, in the stomach.  It's terrible when you feel fine but can't actually eat anything, and after taking a day off work (lest you vomit on everyone you meet) being attacked by your boss doesn't do anything for morale.  I got back the next day and was asked (some time after saying hello to my boss) whether I was okay, having missed the prior days work.  My boss then, upon hearing my answer that I still felt like shit, decided to change my schedule.

Relieved was I that there was still a shred of humanity in her broken, icicle encrusted soul.

I gratefully took the new sheet of paper, holding my schedule.  It was changed from three lessons that day, to five.

Fuck you.

Diseases have prevented me from going to the dentist, but the fact the ol' gnashers don't hurt, means it's in no way serious.  No problem!

And that's about it really.