Taylor Swift

I was recently somewhere when her thin little plaintiff howl came on the radio and I was captive because my kid was playing and I couldn’t turn it off and I was reminded of how much I just cannot fucking stand her. She’s a horrible singer, a horrible awkward out of her depth dancer, a super annoying dresser, a trite, tired, cliched songwriter, if you can even call it that because it’s technically dear diary drivel from a 13 year old. I hate her media antics, her stupid boyfriend choices who are all derivative white British clones of one another. I hate that people like her and think that she’s a genius artist.  Once, while discussing good music with my in laws in Iran, they argued to me that she was an amazing artist and poet. I was like, seriously? You’ve got Rumi and Hafez and ACTUAL amazing poetry but Taylor Swift, the human equivalent of blancmange, is doing it for you? When she was up on stage singing next to Stevie Nicks and breathing the same air as her at one of the grammys it was it was like watching talent and mastery if talent and mastery had been buried under a rotting tree trunk where mushrooms and moss and maggots grow for 25 years and had gotten really soggy and riddled with little wormholes and mold and then put up on stage next to an actual real performer. I hate her stupid ever changing boob size and ashy blond phase, the mismatched fullness between her upper and lower lips, her attempts to be sexy, and her current iteration, which is Linda Ronstadt with none of the skills crossed with Ron Perlman as the Beast from the Beauty and the Beast TV show from 1987. linda-ronstadt+beast 2=


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