Written by Chuck the Canuck
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Topics: Music, America

Monday, 9 May 2005

Los Angeles, CA - Much to the chagrin of no talent posers and US advertising and recording industry executives, it appears that the music buying public has finally wised up and is no longer interested in purchasing any merchandise that has anything to do with rap. There is some concern that the death of rap and the associated decline in the sale of rhyming dictionaries, pimped out Hummers, velour track suits and tacky jewelry could possibly trigger a nation wide recession.

Originally introduced as a novelty genre in the late 1980's to appeal to a dull witted, drug addled, inner city, gang affiliated, semi-literate, teenage audience, it insidiously crossed cultural and color barriers and rapidly found a home in middle class, dull witted, drug addled, semi-literate, white bread, suburban America. Pimply faced, tone deaf, adolescent males, quickly discovered that they no longer needed to blow their allowances on instruments and music lessons. Nor were they any longer required to face countless man hours of long tedious rehearsal time in order to reach their dreams of fame and fortune.

For a brief time it seemed that all that was required to make it in the rap world was and an over inflated ego, delusions of grandeur, a couple of old turn tables, a boom box, a microphone, samples of somebody else's talent, some dancin' hoes and a rudimentary understanding of the concept of rhyme.

Gary Oakey, recording industry insider, explains that one of the major factors contributing to the death of rap music, "Is the unfortunate recent success of a number of accomplished black artists such as Alicia Keys and John Legend who actually have a modicum of musical talent, who are indeed capable of playing a musical instrument and whose lyrics don't rely exclusively on cappin' cops, slappin' bitches and smokin' crack".

Oakey continued, "It was good while it lasted, but as of late, it has become increasingly difficult to suppress actual talent. Sooner or later someone was bound to catch on. There are just only so many words that rhyme with booty, bling, crib and cap. Eventually somebody had to ask, why are all these silver toothed, tattooed, no talent, morons able to drive around in pimped out limos and I still have to take the bus to work? Once they figure that out, it pretty much transfers itself into no more nickels from me. Once that happens, that's all she wrote, it's over".

Bum Nickle, soon to be redundant rapper, succinctly summed up the situation, "Yo it be a phat shazzizzle when it be slamin, but dopey gotta crack a lid sometime".

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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