My music tastes span several genres: rap, hip-hop, R&B, hard rock, not-so-hard rock, rap, alternative (to what, I have yet to figure out), jazz, hip-hop, dance/electronic, and, lastly, and leastly, country. But country plays only at certain times, like when every other station on the planet is having a commercial break.

Kidding! I hate country music. I once landed on a country station while driving, and people cheered because I totally KO'd the DJ inside. Hero of the day, I was. Those speed bumps, I tell you, don't hit them unless your speed is, at most, in the double digits. I just flew and flew and...

Hmm, need a nap, I do.

Back to the real story: I once landed on a country station while driving, and once I realized that this strange, twang-inducing tune was the music I loathed and feared, I promply stopped the car, broke open the emergency stereo disinfecting kit, and furiously scrubbed and bleached the wires, cones, and receiver. However, it was a lost cause, so I had to put the system out of its misery, and popped a couple 9mms in him to put him down. It was a sad drive home, but I knew, just as all those rap songs talked about, he was in the stereo system's equivalent of that big dope house in the sky.

Most music is just a bunch of rhyming lines put to music. It is, dare I say, poetry. Well, too late now not to say it. Anywho, rap for the most part reflects the stuff I write, and no, not anthems to my favorite high or my sawed-off shotgun, but to nothing in general. The rhymes I have written are about as deep as the pool of spit currently sitting in my mouth, which isn't very deep because I just swallowed. Rap and hip-hop songs are just stupid poems to simple beats, which is all I can follow. Anything harder than a "One-Two, Step" and I'm lost.

Eminem will certainly not be getting the nod for poet laureate anytime soon, but as a side note, I think that would be hilarious, since I really wasn't going anywhere with this anyway.

Snobbish Frenchman: "Dees stupid Americans! Ferst, they gave Roebirt Frost dee poet laureate zingy, and now, dis Eminem!"

Snobbish Frenchman's wife: "Wut! Why, dusint he have a tattoo?"

Snobbish Frenchman: "Why, hes have a lut more dan one! Why dont zee Aemericans jost appresheate wut we, France, have to offer?"

Me: "Because your poety sucks"

Snobbish Frenchman: "Wut? Arrgh you crazee?"

Me: "A little, but that's beside the point. All they ever wrote was in France-ish. And when they translate it, it doesn't even rhyme!"

Snobbish Frenchman's Wife: "Whell, pearhaps yew should learn French to trooly appresheate argh poetry."

Me: "Now you're sounding crazy. I'll bet the crap you have is introspective, deep, meaningful, and discusses discoveries the poet has made about life."

Snobbish Frenchman: "Why, dat is all troo! Do yew reely not want to appresheate such magnifiscent whiting?"

Me: "The only thing I foresee myself "appresheating" about the French and their culture is their fries, and maybe, when of legal age, their wine."

Snobbish Frenchman: "Why, in France, you could lee-gallee appresheate zee whine white now!"

Me: "Then you can tack that onto my list"