Why Justin Timberlake Deserves to Have the Flesh Torn From His Scrotum by a Rabid Monkey, While Children Squirt Acid in His Face, Live on TRL.

Hello readers! You know, every week I, The Atlantis Mantis, receive thousands of imaginary letters from you at home, and I would like to read a couple to you now as a lazy and derivative comedy segue into todays rant. Heres one from a little boy in England...

Dear Mantis
I love your rants. They are long and good, and I like to laugh at the rude words. I hate capitalism and one day I want to be a rebel, just like my hero Fred Durst. But why dont you write more rants, and more often?
Yours sincerely, Jennifer Puberty (age 6)

And here's another one from a child in Canada...

Dear Mantis
My body can only receive nutrients in liquid form. What do you do all day in that Well of yours when you're not writing rants?
Best wishes, Ian Surname

Well Ian, Jennifer, here's the deal. As you know, every once in a while I will break from my silent watch over your world to unleash a mighty rant upon you all, but only in times of great crisis. The rest of my time is spent carefully scrutinising your every broadcast, that I might judge your progress as part of a greater scheme that you could never comprehend and that is quite out of your hands.

My well here beneath SYF H.Q. acts as a syphon for your every transmission, which in turn are channeled by my mighty insectoid antenae directly into my brain. At the same time up to one thousand images from your visual media are transmited onto the inner walls of my giant segmented eye simultaneously. In short I am the ultimate communications receiver, conceived by a science more ancient than you can imagine for the soul purpose of judging your species. Because I speak in a language of shrieks and knee-rubbing actions infinately more versatile than your primative verbal linguistics, my findings are dictated to a bank of subsurvient genetically engineered clams, who interpret them into written notes.

By way of example I would like to present to you now a single page of these notes. What you are about to read represents only one single specific minutes worth of rantings as noted by but one single clam out of over three hundred, who are all working around the clock to capture my reports.

So here now for your perusal are the notes of clam #136 as taken from my rantings at 16:37 EST on the 14/12/02...

16:37:02 MTV2: Courtney 'Crude drawing of Madonna' Love unclenches the lips of her vagina live on television, revealing a lost Nirvana demo tape she has been keeping up there for the past ten years - and proceeds to use said tape as a catylist for the further extraction of money from Curt Cobain's corpse.

16:37:04 MTV: Sum 41, of all people, prove just how silly and contrived The Strokes are while singing some dreadful empty song they had the Devil write for them.

16:37:04 Q Network: Hey hey we're the Mockneys. Look everybody, it's The Streets, and they're wearing their working class ethics on the sleeve of their overalls. Well buy me a plate of jellied eels and call me Dennis. 'Let's push things forward' they cry. Yes indeed boys, if we push 'Garij' forward enough it might just evolve back into drum'n'bass and then we can all enjoy the mid-nineties again. Good old knees up fun from the smiling corporate face of urban.

16:37:07: Smash Hits: 'Busted!' apparently. Good God, what am I looking at? The new Hanson further blur the boundaries between 'punk band' and 'boyband' by showing us once again that corporate power in the music industry actually has a very thin grasp on what's cool in animation today.

16:37:09: MTV Base: Eminem. He doesn't care what you think about him and I don't care what he thinks about me. So I'm going to tell YOU what I think about him and we can both not care together. He is, after all, whatever I say he is - so I can't be wrong. Eminem is a fucking genius. No really, he is. The man has built an entire career exclusively around telling you and I who he is, who he isn't, who we think he is and how he - and we, don't care either way. And all without precedent. All without the inconvenience of context or back story. He just turned up on day one in such a manner as to make us believe he had always been there. Brilliant. Here Slim sings an upbeat Transformers-style song to promote his new remake of Mariah Carey's 'Glitter'.

16:37:09: The Hits: Atomic Kitten, all dressed as Kylie, perform a cover of their previous single.

16:37:11: The Box: Gwen Stefani providing an excellent arguement for televised execution.

16:37:12: Kerrang: A band called 'Disturbed' prove just how 'disturbed' they are by being exceptionaly fashionable while playing an eighties power ballad.

16:37:14: MTV Hits: 'One True Voice'. Racially symmetrical boy band. The one in the middle has a symmetrical haircut to emphasise this fact. This lot are one half of the 'Popstars: The Rivals' phenomenon. An unashamaedly evil ploy to predetermine the Christmas number one, that nobody apparently sees anything wrong with because the entire fiasco revolves around a grotesquely bastardised reinterpretation of the concept of democracy.

16:37:15: Kerrang: Avril Levine, the paedophile's Alanis Morrisette, tells it 'like it is'. If you're twelve - and a retard.

16:37:17: Q Network: 'Death in Vegas' perpetuate the alternative mainstream's inexplicable infatuation with getting the Gallagher brothers to front dance tracks.

16:37:20: MTV2: Oh good. Another one of these post-ska punk covers of kitch eighties pop songs for people with a very slim grip on the concept of irony. Not firm enough, at least, to realise that this is the ONLY way that these bands ever make any money.

16:37:23: MTV Base: Missy Elliot. Singularly responsible for the death of the tune. Should be distributed to starving children in the third world.

16:37:27: Kiss: Bug eyed humanoid Holly Valance curses her own career to an ultimately brief lifespan by appearing naked in her very first video. Foolish child.

16:37:29: MTV Hits: 'Jenny from the block' J-lo Lopez. Personal involvement in her music as an artist, or perpetuation of the cult of celebrity self vindication? She and Ben Affleck sold their souls to one another. Isn't that sweet?

16:37:32: Classic FMTV: John 'two songs in me, and I just wrote the third' Williams does that song off Star Wars.

16:37:36: The Hits: 'Girls Aloud', the cunt-bearing half of the 'Popstars: The Rivals' fiasco, sing non-specific pop song accompanied by half an early nineties drum'n'bass bassline. This is 'the sound of the underground' apparently. The sound of the secret underground installation from which sinister forces control your brain waves, perhaps.
They don't seem to like to encourage the ginger one, but she was voted into the band by the public and there's nothing they can do about it - except rig the polls.

16:37:39: Kerrang: Mudvayne. Ah, bless 'em. They're dressed as monsters.

16:37:40: MTV2: World famous Iggy Pop cover band The Strokes all pretend to be Lou Reed while dressed as Sum 41.

16:37:42: P Rock: Audioslave. Honestly took me a while to realise it WASN'T Rod Stewart.

16:37:45: The Hits: Dannii "not a vowel less" Minogue starves herself in "bad imitation of her sister" fiasco. Nothing new there then.

16:37:47 Smash Hits: Preview of this years Smash Hits Poll Winners Party, this year hilariously themed around how 'wacky and odd' the Japanese are. At next years event everybody is expected to 'black up' in the name of irony, while Jamie Theakston ceremonially burns a homosexual - as a joke.

16:37:51: The Box: Fred Durst. "I know why you wanna hate me". Cos I'm shit.

16:37:53: MTV Dance: The Cheeky Girls. Buleamic marionettes of Satan.

16:37:54: Q Network: Someone at Q Network thinks its a good idea to 'mix' Nirvana with Destiny's Child. Fortunately, this person will burn in hell forever.

16:37:57: MTV: Vapid pop chameleon Pink puts on her rock hat and cynically sings about her divorced parents in an unconvincing bid for that Eminem 'parental conflict dollar'. Whore.

16:37:59: The Hits: The Moon is colliding with the Earth!! No, wait. It's just the unconvincing face of Sophie Elis Baxter. What a farce she is. Her daddy bought her a career. No, sorry, I think you'll find that YOU did.

Well, there you have it kids. A mere fraction of a minute in the infinitely tormented life of the Atlantis Mantis, just one single moment of the unmitigated horrors that are beamed constantly into your homes to keep you subdued, recorded forever via the typings of a weird-looking clam. Look upon these words with awe and terror readers. Contemplate the crimes against decency that have been committed in the course of these transmissions then imagine them expanded ten thousand fold. Then realise that this is what you are expected to accept as entertainment.

Hundreds of different artists performing hundreds of different songs on hundreds of different chanels, and all, to the very last, completely indistinguishable from one another and without validity or merit. Contemplate just for a moment the enormity of that. Contemplate the vast stagnant swamp that is pop music, then realise what is required to orchestrate such a vast symphony of mediocrity. Only when you do this will you begin to realise the true nature of the people you are leaving in charge of your cultural environment. Only then can you even begin to conceive of the dark and wicked monsters that must lie deep in the souls of every music industry executive. The very thought of it chills me my children, and I'm a giant insect for crying out loud.

Just a thought.

The Atlantis Mantis.

*TRL, for those of you you who don't care, is a sort of regular televised Nuremberg Rally for hormone crazed girl-zombies.

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