“There’s too many damn p*****s singing on the radio,” says local country music fan Reginald Spears, who reckons he knows what the hell’s wrong with country music nowadays.
“I ain’t never seen Waylon with no gel in his hair. You?” Mr. Spears continued. “Johnny Cash didn’t wear no fruity little blue jeans that ride up in his nether parts. These boys today – I can’t tell ’em from the girls, really. I might even hit on that Urban fella if I had a few in me one night.”
Reginald went on: “Now the gals, they’re just fine… just fine, heh heh heh, but the men need to take some d*** enhancement pills and get back to singing about keeping their women in line and fighting and drankin’. I’m tired of all this mamby-pamby sissy talk, cryin’ about moments that led to ‘this’ and something or other that ‘felt good on his lips.’ That dude needs to make sure he’s off his period when he cuts a song.”
Mr. Spears spoke at length about forgetting your damned roots, going Hollywood, dancing around like a fruit, pretending you knew Johnny Cash, suckling at the teat of “commercialness,” trying to be Bon Jovi or somesuch, kowtowing to women-folk, being light in your loafers, harmony-izing with chicks and singing about your favorite nude beach. He was very eloquent, in an offensively non-eloquent sort of way, about the problems country music faces in this here day and age.
“If somebody in Nashville would hire me to write their dang radio play lists and sign their talent, sh*t would be different,” said Reggie. “Coe would still be played, tractors wouldn’t be sexy and them motherf***ing pop stars would stay over on the smooth rock station.”
Reginald also guaran-damn-tees he knows how to solve the federal trade deficit, but that’s news for another day.