Thursday 13 August 2009

I Wanna Be Your Dog

I can't freaking move for posters showing Iggy Pop selling me insurance or Johnny Rotten trying to convince me to buy sodding butter. What on earth is going through their minds?

Iggy why are you chocking on corporate cock for a few quid? Surely you have a few bob put to the side by now?

I thought it was bad when Pele was splashed onto TV screens in-between football matches to remind its mainly testosterone heavy viewing audience that having a limp dick was fine but I didn't expect Iggy, not Iggy!

What next?

Will Morrissey appear on the advert break of loose women advertising a cock ring or will I be flicking through a newspaper only to find Yoko Ono was sick of humanity and was instead taking a job with BAE systems as a sales rep.

This kind of shitty contradiction is every where these days.

Last week I saw a heavily tattooed punk wearing a Rage Against the Machine T- Shirt. My heart filled with admiration as I walked towards him in my cheap office wear.

Here was a man who had principles, who wasn't part of this unfair capitalist system. This rotten system which will leave my children paying for the mistakes of some greedy bankers. My admiration quickly withered and died however, when he got closer I noticed he was gleefully slurping a Starbucks cappuccino.

I'm not saying I'm any better.

I eat whatever food looks good regardless if some farmer in a country I can't pronounce is getting a good deal or not. I don't spend the time to research if my jeans were made by people on 1p a day and I couldn't give shit if the battery in my Playstation was made from recyclable materials.

But I do demand that my favourite rock stars do not try and sell me sodding insurance.

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