You knew it was coming

Can Arinca talk about why country music sucks? No? Well, here goes anyway.

Arnica just got done listening to Seven Spanish Angels, after just listening to Momma Tried, after just listening to Crying Time.

Those songs tugged on some hidden part of Arnica's soul, made his eyes well up with moisture, caused a lump to develop in his throat, and made a tingly feeling come over his body. The twangy, heart-string plucking melodies just carried Arnica into a warm, dark place. It was a sad place but it was comfortable and peaceful.

No doubt, you have had a similar reaction to a song. If not, hows' that lobotomy treating you? Frontal lobe--Shmuntal lobe, Arnica always says. Anyway, we all know that feeling when a song really connects. So, it is Arnica's correct opinion that modern country music connects with Arnica like Shaquele O'Neil connects on his free throws. It doesn't and he doesn't—not normally. He is like a career .300 free throw shooter. He truly sucks at the charity stripe. But Arnica digresses—a bit. Most of what Arnica hears on those new country radio stations— with names like, the Wolf, or the Possum, or the Steer—is this odd rock-country-crappy stuff. On those stations, Arnica hears nothing but lame songs about trucks, horses, white trash troubles, the joys of being ignorant, save a horse-ride a dumb ass with a hat, and the like.

Where's the real pain? Wheres the tear in the beer? Where is the good stuff?

And what ever happened to the ugly cowboy with warts, a scraggly beard, a beer belly, and drinking problem? Today's country stars look like they came straight from a reality show make over.

That stuff is a far cry from the stuff Arnica considers country. But then again, Arnica spent his entire teenage years with a Sears Walkman knock-off cassette player, listening to Ride The Lightning followed by Screaming for Vengeance, followed by Highway to Hell. So, what does Arnica know from Country music? He knows enough to think he can blog about it—and that's not much.

good day.