There’s an itch that rap music scratches that no other kind of music does. For this reason, I have a longstanding love-hate relationship with the genre. But the fact remains; I always come back to it. Once I realized I was listening to it alone, when there was no one around to impress, I figured I enjoyed the form enough to jabber about it sincerely.
I would like to take this opportunity to shoulder a bit of the blame hurled around in the current Battle of the Generations. Whatever my assigned generational designation might be (“X”), I know for certain one egregious sin that we all committed willfully, en masse.
Maybe someday, in some perfect future utopia where I am long dead, the vaunted generation known as “millennials” will finally experience self-awareness. Maybe they will finally uncover the reason why they are so vehemently despised by literally everyone who came before them.
It just dawned on me that I fucked up and left the writing off the CD I’m holding in the final panel. I’m literally holding a square. It could be a bathroom tile for all we know. FUCK!!!
Before I begin, I want you to understand that I have no reason to lie to you. I don’t care about alienating the companies I’ll be attacking in the following article because they have nothing to offer me.
The comic book industry I dreamed about being part of since I was a boy is dead. It’s never coming back. It will never recover.
A long, long time ago, in a previous century far away, I wrote a song called “Doing Without”.
Inner gatefold collage of Tailothepup’s Yars Revenge
Yes, believe it or leave it, I used to “write lyrics”, although I never had much aptitude for it, and I preferred repetitive chants over sophisticated poetry. Plus, I was the vocalist out of necessity and proprietary right; I don’t have the greatest singing voice, I confess. I can carry a tune about as well as I can carry a Volkswagen bus. Not well, would be my point here.
You must be logged in to post a comment.