Friday, July 22, 2005

Friday Fuckfest: An Especially Bitter Rant

Fuck-alls of the week:

This week, since I've been saving it up for a while now, all of my beefs revolve around Coldplay: the band, the shitty music, and Gwyneth's husband.

Eww...even they guys in Coldplay know they stink.

Why I Hate Coldplay, an Essay by me, told in Bulletpoints because I'm Lazy:

1. Every song they have ever written and/or recorded has been "Yellow", but should actually be called "Whiny Bitch." Seriously. They all sound exactly the same.

2. I once told a fervent Coldplay fan that the band "bored me to tears." "Oh really?" he responded. "They usually just bore me to sleep." Ahhh.

3. The songs are wussy. They "aspire" to be U2, they've been compared to Radiohead, minus everything good about Radiohead (read: blatantly, but feebly copy), but really, they're like Sting, except in comparison, Sting is a bad-ass rocker.

4. Coldplay is pablum. They take no risks. They're dull. They're like the training bra of rock and roll. Their crappy little records should be made out of plastic, ready to be loaded into various Fisher -Price toys, which can then be thoughtlessly discarded by toddlers when they're ready to progress to the likes of Sting.

5. Of course, I don't hate children as much as that. I really don't wish Coldplay on anyone. The only thing Coldplay is fit for is to be played in the elevators of government offices where the bloated workers won't be bothered by the chamomile effects of the band anyway.

6. A friend of mine recently purchased her copy of their newest album X&Y (which I think we can agree would be more aptly titled XYZzzzzzzzzz). I asked her why she liked Coldplay, and she told me that they make pleasant background noise. Aha. So that's it. Me, I've just been running the vacuum cleaner.

7. Perhaps the most alarming thing about letting a band like Coldplay rise to any amount of success is that they are ugly. And frankly, they're not even the kind of ugly men that can seem a little cuter knowing they have million-dollar bank accounts. Nope, just plain old ugly, and as I told Jason recently, there's no room in rock for ugos. If you are ugly and want to make music, you should stick to jazz or cbg.

8. Really, though, I don't blame Coldplay. I mean, if I was an ugly dude who tended toward mediocrity, I'd be pretty stoked to sell a million albums too. I really blame the people who pay good money for their worthless CDs, which only propels the myth that Coldplay are any good. They're not. But the public just eats them up, because let's face it: the bulk of music-buyers have no taste. They also buy Clay Aiken and Britney Spears records. Case closed.

Now, onto my problem with Chris Martin.

1. I promise not to hold the fact that he accidentally impregnated horse-face against him. In fact, I hold much hope in her, that she may prove to be a Yoko.

2. I will not, however, look the other way when an upper-middle class born boy bemoans his 'riches to even more riches' lifestyle. And not just the regular "oh poor me, I'm so famous" bullshit that all celebrities like to spout, but such gems as "my greatest fear in life is going bald". Oh my bleeding heart, poor emo-boy!

3. The only thing worse than his pity-me lyrics is his annoying voice. I think that Chris Martin is a transvestite currently in the closet - but his voice is being primed for the many future trannie cabaret acts he is sure to star in once Coldplay's welcome is worn out. As much as I hate the sound of his voice, my dog hates it even more. When Chris warbles on the radio, my puppy runs and hides her head between the sofa cushions, trying to drown him out. I feel her pain.

4. What I really respect about him though, is the long, disjointed political diatribes he now makes to the know, "free trade" this, and "fuck the shareholders" that. Right. And if you believe that, then you belong on this list. Send me your name and an unflattering picture of yourself immediately. But really. Chris Martin, shut the hell up. We have enough rock stars getting all self-righteous on us, and we don't buy it. No one's going to say boo-hoo for the guy with the fattest wallet in the room.

This week's most fuckable:

Pierce Brosnan: I know, I know, how has he not made this list before this? He is devastatingly gorgeous, achingly charming in all of his movies, a dedicated family man, and a sensitive soul as evidenced by the thoughtful journal entries and poetry (recent topic: London bombings) found on his site.

I consistently fall for both his lilting Irish accent, and the sexy silver at his temples, but its his sense of romance, and pride in fatherhood that make him truly attractive. During his first marriage, he adopted his wife's 2 children after their father died tragically. He and this wife also had a child of their own, before she died in Pierce's arms of ovarian cancer the day after their 11th wedding anniversary. He raised those 3 children on his own for the next decade, choosing only the movies that would allow him to remain dedicated to his kids. Ten years later he was ready to marry again, but wedding plans had to be scrapped last minute when his son was badly injured in a car accident. Finally, Pierce and his new love were married, and have had another 2 children together. He has recently taken time off from film schedules to spend more quality time with them.

Mushy stuff aside, let's not forget how dashing this man looks in a suit. While I am also a fervent Sean Connery fan, I must admit that I've loved Pierce in the James Bond role. I can imagine myself drinking many a martini (shaken, not stirred) with him, and the rest of that fantasy is unmentionable. Pierce Brosnan has made 007 synonymous with yum!

No comments: