Times=Onion; A Book; 4 Songs, posted March 30, 2007 at 12:31 AM
Lately, I harbor quite a bit of rage. I'm not sure if it's because of the war, because of being less talented and beautiful than I'd like to be, because I'm lonely, because my day job gets me down sometimes, because I don't live near to the people I'd most like to live near, or what. But whatever the cause, I'm really struggling with The Media right now. Everything I read seems utterly ridiculous. Like I know the truth and clearly recognize that NO ONE ELSE IN THE GODDAMNED WORLD KNOWS IT and that certainly what's being presented as "news" is not only not news, it's not even fluff. IT'S TORTURE.
And you know, that reaction just makes no sense and just isn't funny--I mean, part of the rage I've got in me is because there is actual torture going on in the world right now--with plenty of it being done in MY name, in all our names, by Americans.
Anyway, The New York Times tonight looks like The Onion. I'm sorry, but just look at this screen grab from the Times:
It's not me who can't find or keep a boyfriend--it's my apartment! Well that's news, isn't it?
And oh look, readers of the New York Times are looking to become what? That's right!--Bankers to the poor! [long silence]
Um, okay, pick me up off the floor now, wouldja? My sides ache. Even laughter hurts these days. Paging Patsy Cline. Paging Patsy Cline. White courtesy telephone, Miss Cline. Good news, Patsy, the readership of the New York Times wants to be your banker.
And then we have "Face Yoga Takes Wrinkles to the-----------------