From a tender young age I have despised country music. In sounds resembling those of a strangled cat, the awful fake American accents and stories of “the girl that got away” were just so bland and awful that they penetrated the walls of my mothers stomach to give me an everlasting impression.

I’m sure there exists actual country music, like the kind of shit I envision American cowboys sing around the roasting carcass of a pig they’ve just killed and placed on a spit.

In 2009 however, country is almost like a special-ed version of pop music. A glitzy and Las Vegas-glamour kind of farmer’s life, belted out over an acoustic guitar. Ballads about long lost love, living in the outback and meeting beautiful girls with full sets of teeth are all topics you’ll find in this highly stylistic view of the ‘country life’.

It’s a genre of music that exists for people who don’t like being force fed ‘city fella’s music’, because they feel that their geographical location should influence their music tastes. It’s a niche easily filled by the fucking mindless dribble of these ‘artists’.

Australian country music ‘artists’ are by far the worst. All of them might sit there and talk to a TV host with a normal voice, but as soon as that guitar comes out it’s all American. They might be wearing shit that goes with the awful music – flanno, Akubra hat, RM Williams shit – but at the end of the day many are going home to a city mansion.

On something I’ve touch on a little bit previously, there is a solid link between Bogan-ism and country music. The 80s flannos, the piece of shit Commodore sedan or late 80’s Land Cruiser ute, and bogan family to accompany. Chuck some Australian flags or Southern Cross marks all over the cars, or the family and you have a you-beaut representation of the outback bogan. Not a new variety, but also not one I’m exposed to enough to write anymore about.

If I’m honest, the last time I checked, the regular Joe could give two shits about the boring-ass plight of a country man or woman.

We’re too busy interacting with people from our lounges via the physical disconnect of social media to give a flying fuck what some fiction person meant to some dude in some place where like three people live without the basics of power and water.

Maybe the whole reason behind the awful drone of people like Lee Kernaghan is to create a magical image of the country life that people are living, purely for masturbatory purposes. And since they are so far disconnected from a city, with internet access levels matching those seen during its inception, how else would these people get access to porn?

No wonder country music is such a booming industry – desperate and lonely men and women get the tapes shipped via horseback straight to their shack where their battery powered tape decks are. Imagine the flurry of excitement they must get every 6 months when the mail horse does a round-trip! New ‘play’ material!

What a glorious life!