Okay, that's it. You bloodless sacks of fluff and marrow are on your own. I just can't take the idiocy anymore. It was the final straw and I officially renounce any connection to or sympathy for the human race. You're all going to cherry-coat in hell and quite frankly you've brought it on yourselves.

Trivial Trivial Trivial. The final straw is indeed a straw in it's tinyness and could be seen as a drop in the bucket that is the loss of dignity in human culture, but I prefer to see it as a subtle omen that you're about to be spoon fed the end times.

I once said something to the effect of "Accusing a band of Selling Out is one of the most cliched and irrelevant forms of outrage you can participate in, but if you ever hear your name or the name of your group in the same sentence as the phrase 'only at McDonalds,' it's safe to assume you've lost any semblance of artistic integrity you ever had." It was true. I was of course referring to the commercials crossing over Brititney Spheres, Lip'Sync, and McDonalds. Trivial talk of trivial bands shilling for fast food(which is NEVER trivial). Admitted, I'm sorry. Be good little consumers and when you're eating this listen to this and wear these. The trivial effect on me was that I was reminded of how hollow everybody is each morning I grabbed a Sausage McMuffin on my way home to bed.

But now you've gone and done it. You foolish living creatures have allowed your civilization to fester to the point where this blatant corporate cross-fertilization isn't laughed at and ridiculed on the street but instead cherished and imitated! The Backstreet Raving Homosexual Pedophile Presold PlayDoh Fun-Factory Asslicking Boys are offering an exclusive CD through Burger King. (The name-manipulations become more clever, no?) This makes me want to vomit.

I know I shouldn't care because I don't care about any of the bands involved and it's not like it's possible for a constructed commodity to sell itself out if it tried, but I really don't want to live in the privitized megaconglomerate dystopian future you're crafting for yourselves. For a bit more scathing hatred than I can properly put into text at the moment though, we'll turn temporarily to an expert on the subject:

"Sucking Satan's pecker. Suck it! Put that big scaly pecker down your gullet, suck it! It's only your dignity, suck it!"
--Bill Hicks

Thank you, Bill, for bringing us that lovely image for an intermission. How are you enjoying being dead? What's that? I can't hear you, you're dead. So I'll continue now. Since the major combatants in the fast food battle have each drafted some "singing" Power Rangers to further cement their name recognition into your heads, the line has been drawn in the sand of thirteen-year old girls' heads and have one very important question: What happens if an innocent little drooly fangirl, just beginning her mysterious journey into womanhood, loves N'Sync but prefers the flame-broiled taste of a Whopper to the just-held-under-our-armpits moistness of a Big Mac?

If that somehow happens, the sweet girl-child will be dragged into the street and shot three times in the face. How dare she?