Oh Good, Country Music is Going to Hell

On my evening walk through Chinablock last night I noticed something different about the roving gangs of teenagers who normally infest that neighborhood when they're not busy getting on my lawn and doing their freak dancing. Instead of the usual mixed crowd, last night's gang appeared to be overwhelmingly white, female, and clad in cowboy boots and sundresses. This meant only one thing--some teenybopper country music show at the Verizon Center. (Had this been regular country, say George Strait, the crowd would have been older and featured at least some men) Sure enough, Taylor Swift was in town.

Now, while I carry no animus towards Ms. Swift--her blandness is both inoffensive and only effects the dead zone in my ear--the fact that she is the new face of country music is an alarming development. Gone are the days where country and western were represented by drug addled tough guys like Johnny Cash or George Jones, or former paratroopers like Kris Kristofferson. Even the lady singers of the old days were pretty badass--Tammy Wynette seemed like the type you wouldn't cross if you liked your face just the way it was, and Patsy Cline likely had a few bodies buried in her cellar. And Dolly Parton . . . don't get me started on Dolly Parton.

But Taylor Swift--this is someone who dates mega-douche John Mayer, only to get dumped (what a shocker!) and write some passive aggressive song about it. Hell, if Patsy Cline had dated Mr. Mayer, we'd be finding bits of him along I-85 in four different southern states.

Taylor Swift is to country music what Twilight is to vampires.