Erratically updated blurbs on the life and times o'cat.
back home
|
Saturday, October 28, 2006
hillbilly poseur ain't got no boundaries, he don't compromise
Listening to: | Sound Scientist, Bill | Reading: | ? | Weather: | 39, dropping, rainy | As I walked down High Street on my way back to work after lunch, I heard the dopplering sound of Cry, Cry, Cry. So I looked up. This buzzcut dork in a camouflage ball cap was driving a dinged up white Ford F150 jacked up with the 10 FOOT WHEELS WhEeLs wheels. He had his window down and was blasting Johnny Cash so freakin loud I could barely hear myself grunt as I walked by him stopped at the light. What a dick.
I suppose if he'd been black, driving an SUV, sporting [sporting what? what fashion or style has yet to be co-opted from hip hop culture by pimply white boys?] and thumping some gangsta rap, my instinctual disdain would be based on a less acceptable negative stereotype. But honestly, I'd still be thinking "what a dick."
I'm just saying please turn that shit down, be it twang or West Coast rhyme, your bass is not welcome in my face. Y dang byatch.
permalink
posted by cat 2:03 PM
read 0 comments
hillbilly poseur ain't got no boundaries, he don't compromise
|
Archives
|