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Take the Which Poet are You? Quiz - brought to you out of boredom and pretention!

Tyyyyyyypical.




You are "Easy Mac" Macaroni and Cheese. And when they
say "You're Easy" they're not kidding. You're cheap too!
(in every sense). Probably a college student, or you live
alone. Best eaten high or stoned... But trust me, you get eaten...

Take the What Kind of Macaroni and Cheese Are You? Quiz

Created by LJ User RobProv222 robprov222

Oh. Gee. Thanks.




All ducks aren't sweet and innocent and you prove that. You have a nasty streak.

Find your inner rubber ducky.

Not to let that and the fact that the idiotic machines downstairs ate my five pound note distract me from a perfectly good rant...

In the fifties, the youth were ... well, they thought they were golden. They'd just won the War. They were winners. They were golden. Life was good.

Then the sixties came, and Vietnam. They weren't golden anymore. They realised that their nation was smeared with as much shit as everybody else's. And they didn't want to fight a dirty war -- relatively speaking, it was very soon after a clean one. So they said, "We won't fight. MAKE LOVE NOT WAR!" They made love. They tried peace. And they were beaten to the ground. So they learned a lesson -- fight or die.

This went on until about the seventies. When one day, someone said, "Okay fine. You want to fight? We'll fight." Listen to punk. You'll hear it. You'll hear "Your world is shit and we're going to kick it to death because you killed the dream, you motherfuckers."

And then there was the eighties. And somehow, that "Burn, you assholes" became a mad desire to get things. To make one's own way in the world. Things weren't working out -- people were angry, bitter, and disillusioned. It was, "Root, hog, or die". It was what they now call the "Me" decade. And the lesson they came away with was "We are all islands".

The children of the nineties and the noughties got their lessons from that. That the world sucks and they are alone in it. And look where it got us. We're a generation of suicidal, fucked-up, mind-warped, depressed junkie-types. The nineties had heroin -- the noughties have more antidepressants than you can name. There are children in mental institutions, and therapy groups, and in graves because they killed themselves. And by children, I mean pre-teen. Look at what we are.

And it's made into popular fiction. Look at "Rachel's Holiday". Or "Getting it Together". "Prozac Nation" ... an exception -- an inaugration, and not fictionalised. There's this thing I'm reading now called "The Madolescents". And let's be fair -- Bridget Jones is two steps away from the rubber Ramada. Even our pain is commercialised, and pre-packaged. That's pop fiction and Nu-Metal for you.

So here we are, floundering around with the cast-off emotions of five decades of disillusionment, trying to get it together or just letting ourselves fall apart. And it's a fucking marketing ploy. It's like the conglomeration of fashion that exists now, except it's empathic.

Do I want to live in that world?

Had to see the shrink today. She asked if I'd had thoughts of harming myself. I told her no. She believed me. How dumb is she, anyway?

Thessaly