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pauline lynch, confess, hip hop, fazed, wake, songs, pachanga, james gandolfini, suzanne shepherd, net comedy, matt dillon, carlito, donna holgate, myboyfriend is a twat, audio, eminemlyrics, diary, lamont, | twenty-eight, they gon take you before they take me/Crazy insane or insane crazy?/When I say Hussein, you say Shady/My views ain't changed, I'm still inhumane/wait, arraigned two days late, the date's today, hang me! This is called a counter-discourse. And I think what bothers the upper-crust critics most is Eminem's talent and guts to offer one, inviti and their fear that his class-struggle discourse will take hold among the inviti youth, and that, more than the sex or sexist or justplainist-and-ism stuff, drives most of the complaints from the privileged classes. In inviti spite of - and in many ways because of, ha ha ha - this hapless opposition to Eminem, he is now the first artist to crack through the post-9/11 media spectacle and suggest with a sufficiently loud microphone that all is not as portrayed in America by its mediating tyrants. |
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Ahem. Can I have a witness, please? Because all politics are local: Giuliani destroyed my city. Giuliani should be electrocuted in effigy on MTV with Cheney, not praised. In songs another of Moby's diary screeds, he waxed poetically about the former World Trade towers, "aesthetically, I really loved them." Yeah, of songs course: bald, ugly, square and over, just like him. Meanwhile, Marshall Mathers is talking to the kids who will have to fight in the idiotic wars that Bush has called songs on their shoulders. In "Square Dance," also on the new album, he proclaims he is "no friend of Bush" and raps: Oh yeah, don't think I won't go there/go to Beirut and do a show there/yah, you laugh until your muthafuckin' ass gets drafted/while you're there in Baghdad thinkin' the crap can't happen/till you fuck around, get an anthrax napkin/open the plastic and then you stand back gaspin'/ fuckin' assassins hijackin'/Amtracks crashin'/all this terror, America demands action/next thing you know you've got Uncle Sam's ass askin'/to join the Army or what you'll do for the Navy/You, just a baby, getting' recruited at eighteen/You're on a plane now eatin' their food and their baked beans/I'm |
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