"bbc" poems
From the BBC today,
Excerpt
Why does Taylor Swift write so many one-note melodies?
"It's easy to get distracted by her celebrity, but Taylor Swift is a once-in-a-generation songwriter. From the very beginning, she's displayed a knack for melody and storytelling that most artists never master.
Take, for example, her first US number one, OUR SONG
Written for a high school talent show, it's a fairly typical tale of teenage romance until the final lines: "I grabbed a pen / And an old napkin / And I wrote down our song."
That's smart, self-assured songwriting for someone who wasn't old enough to vote. Notably, the lyrics insert the musician directly into the narrative - something she developed into a tried and tested trope.
But Our Song also establishes another of Taylor's trademarks: The one-note melody.
Excerpt
Repetitive melodies that centre around a single note are part of that appeal. They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech.
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."
Rebuttal
Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics. They can relate to your song but if they cannot sing it themselves putting themselves in the 'first-person perspective narrative' they cannot feel as-if they have BECOME the artist and are living that moment as they remember it. Taylor Swift sings about teenage love and angst something EVERYONE ON EARTH understands.
ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG.
Cadences are singing statements that confer a discipline and unity.
Song acts as a catharsis. The artist shares their pain in a way that is universally understood. If you want to sell a rock, literally a pebble, you will not sell it if it doesn't look like a rock. If it doesn't do what rocks do. If it is not what people remember a rock to be like. Nor will it sell if it is just like every other rock they have ever seen. It cannot convey an emotion unless it elicits emotion.
One cannot even begin to feel emotional if one cannot remember easily the past and that includes lyrics one has heard that evoked said emotional state.
It is horrifying to see HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS that rhyme be obliterated in exchange for an intellectual or individual perspective NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE.
If you want to sell and make money you better start thinking about the 99% of people who are not geniuses.
If your sole goal in life is to attract a genius to give you a great job because of how, "smart," they perceive you to be then fine.
You are not an artist.
You are an employee.
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."
Thrice Times Great. ⁻ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ
BECOME
EVERYONE ON EARTH
ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG
HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS
NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE
HOW BAD
artist?
or employee?
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
I'm considered to be nerdy
Awkward, not flirty.
They call me gay,
Because I Cosplay.
I must be a dork
Because Zelda's my lord,
And she's way cooler than any sport.
Could someone love me?
That couldn't be.
I watch too much anime,
And BBC.
I praise The doctor and Spock.
Even Sherlock.
Cause in my opinion
They're better than jocks.
Being nerdy is quite fun,
But you make me sound dumb.
We're accepting and caring
But please stop staring.
Am I making this boring?
Don't start snoring..
Just give me a chance.
I'll make it last.
We could play Skyrim or league.
Wait, don't leave!
I can be cool,
Just like you!
I can calculate big numbers in my head,
Or make a fortress out of my bed
I can be an ork, elf, or spy.
Just as long as it's allowed by the die.
I can cast spells online.
Don't worry, you'll be fine!
I can role play to the extreme!!!
That's right, I call it d&d.;
I'm proud to be a geek.
Yes, we're very neet!
We know our facts!
We're anime maniacs.
I'm good at mtg!
It takes skill to be like me.
I'm cool I tell you!
I'm grand.
But at the same time,
You don't make me feel great.
I'm a loser,
A dork
No, I don't like baseball, football, or hockey
I can't bench and I don't lift.
But I go to some pretty intense parties...
On Xbox.
My heart is bigger than my head..
No, not literally.
I'd bring you a rose
And write you a poem
You'd be my Rory.
This isn't the end of the story.
I'd love you more than
video games, Star Wars, and D&D.;
In the end,
You're always my MVP.
You don't have to lie,
I know you'll decline..
but my feelings won't change.
They'll always be the same.
Maybe I'd be cool..
If I were with you.
But that'll never be
Because you fail to see OTP.
Then again,
It's all good in the end
Because..
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Manga costs less
Than dinner for two.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
The Revolution will not be pay-per-view,
Streamed online, or listed in the TV Guide,
The Revolution will be LIVE ON AIR
Rush seating No reservations First to come are first to serve
The Revolution will not be monetarily politicized,
the Revolution will be patronized
Next, On the World Today Network: Revolution This Way Comes
The Revolution will not be a mutually exclusive for
CBC, BBC, CNN, YouTube, Facebook, SnapChat, or Instagram
The Revolution is more than digital trolling,
It will be a Counter-Electronic-Magnetic-Pulse
Do you have your passport for the Revolution?
The Revolution is unauthorized
Written for and by all the people
The Revolution is radical, hands-on, and requires assembly
Batteries are not included and there is no manufacturer’s warantee,
The Revolution will be uncomfortable for those living in leisure
For it has been bred to cause the Elite displeasure
Revolution 99% Uploaded
Press [ENTER] key to initiate collective action
~
NM 10/17/15
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Then the arch painter,
up in the blue yonder,
stirs the sea of colours,
and posing in style,
infuses the magic with
tangerine daylight.
Then I don't know
if you were walking
by a brook or a river,
you would tune in,
perhaps like the sweet singer,
Hebrew King David,
the water nymph hums a melody.
Then the narrative resonates,
it never just goes away like the wind.
Birds chirp and sing
in the groves and on every street.
Then I was watching the BBC
on a black and white screen,
the beloved monarch had passed away,
and Britain was mourning.
Then she appeared
once in a stolen exhibition
by my poetry in motion
and jolly happy she was admiring
now she's gone I just dreamed.
Then amidst the melancholy,
I heard twittering birds chirping,
missing the mellifluous melodies,
so awesomely sweet,
alas, Queen Elizabeth wasn't there
to speak her English!
Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 9:06 PM UTC
Davis Cup to Andy Murray,
Oh my God that man can scurry, in a flurry.
Sports Personality on the BBC,
Andy’s the pride of Team GB.
Andy Murray,
Replaced Fred Perry, the past to bury.
(Yet praise he does not curry).
First Wimbledon, then Davis Cup.
Team GB is on the Up.
Paul Butters
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
So,
now they want a debate after
they got us in this hell of a state.
The knock on the door,
'Labour does more'.
'Preserve the Conservative, go with the flow',
The Greens don't you know want the whole ****** country to grow,
biodiversity?
are there no limits to what we can be?.
Well,
you can all **** orf
take your policies and shove 'em
I've made up my mind to grind up manifestos
plant them in pots and see what grows from them.
Probably tulips or grey men
Nothing will change whoever gets in
whoever's first past the trough they all stop to
dip in,
they're all of the same, using us by
confusing us by using a different name.
But I'll wait and then see on the BBC
Who's going to be the new 'pope',
whoever it is
there's no hope,
I'll still be poor.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 9:08 AM UTC
Life is naught but a gimmick,
Is taken for granted,
And is a means of society proclaimed glory and greatness.
We blame God for the things that are wrong with this world when it falls only on us.
Do you miss when times were simple,
The small things mattered,
Women took pride in being flattered
And men took pride in their approach to these women.
Where life was more than a means to please,
But was something that we knew couldn't be passed with ease.
There were no cheat codes back then, life wasn't a game
There was less of a need for us to rise to fame.
There was less of a need to have the next best thing,
And couples took more pride in a diamond ring.
Big brother wasn't watching us and we felt no need to be watching it,
There was no place on the street where black boys felt they should loiter and sit.
The sun seemed brighter and winter was when winter was,
A woman did not feel she should change to what a man is,
They were quite content in keeping their vaginas.
Was it the fault of the hierarchy top
That gave the choice for them to just stop
Being what they're supposed to be
Or was it always in wanting and just I did not see.
Music was better; back then it had more meaning
To this day I still wonder what happened to it,
I think a few more years for more real music I'll be feening.
What happened to TV,
Cartoon Network,
BBC,
ITV,
What foolishness is on nowadays,
Made for us to judge other people on their looks,
Their talents and skills,
But let's see,
Who are we to look down on others who try,
Look down on yourself,
And about yourself just try not to lie.
What happened to game?
It seems that these days,
All we need is a pin not a key to the heart.
People claming to be in love,
But do you know what love is?
New girlfriend tomorrow,
Did you sign up to have kids?
What happened to love?
Not just for man but for God?
Do you not remember how He came through when you lost?
When you were alone,
Lust for life was but memory,
How you came through but thought it was on your own?
What happened to the world,
Tell me if you had a little girl,
Would you treat her like a pen,
Let her be used by whoever would ask,
Discard her once done with knowing she wouldn't last.
Or treat her like a flower in the desert,
Treasure and savour with hope it will last,
With love and a prayer,
That this moment is forever.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 5:59 AM UTC
It is angel impact bullwhip vivid
Stampede fingers landscape obedient
Jail bust escape laughing run
Spillway thought stream fuzzy essence
UGG boot toe tubs and water stings
Earthquake tyrant Celsius fools
Pin lake petrol ice filled deserts
Spiky flames in outer space
Sculpture freak show withering exhibit
Fathom emergency breathe and ****
Nut shell gorillas invisibly cracked
Cow fed nirvana BBC
Shades of zero audio cauldron
Same vein madness virus mansion
Culinary horror infection procedures
Geyser rich nutrient pea-pod turmoil
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 3:38 AM UTC
Independent Grammy
Ameripolitan Billboard
CMA Triple Play
Indigenous K-Love Fan
Austin YouTube
Loudwire MTV Video
GMA Dove iHeartRadio
Canadian Country
Stellar BBC Music Magazine
Americana Blues
Tennessee Songwriters Association
Soribada Best K-Music
Texas Country
APRA Western Heritage
Texas Sounds
Academy of Country Music
Wine Country
Carolina Teen Choice
Pulitzer Prize
Latin American Unsigned
Alternative Press
International Western
People's Choice
American Tejano
ASCAP Country Soul Train
Soribada Best K-Music
Texas Country
American Songwriting
Branson Terry
Nashville Industry
International Bluegrass
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 6:27 PM UTC
for Barry and Tina
Life experience is something I haven’t witnessed,
the fitness of waking up and going back to bed
50 years on the trot.
But I look to my father’s hands and see
all twelve-thousand morning mists
he has seen.
A gristmill heart, grained hands
and workshop walking feet are
all hidden from view.
He writes in capitals, written
with precision, and crosses the T’s
as he goes along,
So not to prolong the sentence writing chore,
making more time, conjuring up the minutes
to potter around and mend unbroken objects.
-
Life experience is something I haven’t witnessed,
the fitness of waking up and going back to bed
50 years on the trot.
But I look at my mother’s hands
and see remedies read about in those magazines,
all to look younger in the staff canteen.
A watermill heart, smooth iron fingers
and contoured, sculpted chiselled
corridor feet are all hidden from view.
She scrawls her sentences; they become the tide
hiding letters and numbers in the swell
of punctuation and dotted I’s,
The T’s cross themselves and she moves on,
another phone call to attend too or
a new BBC this-time-more-accurate historical drama to view.
-
Life experience is something I haven’t witnessed,
the fitness of waking up and going back to bed
50 years on the trot.
But if you keep on going, stay out of strong sunlight
so not to rot, those years will pass
as a striking blur leading to coastal Big Sur
roads, where the next 50 miles
bring just as many smiles as the last 50.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
I remember from my first memories with all senses humming waking up on Sunday mornings to the squealing seagulls. The smell of briney sea air was sharper
On most sunny sunday
mornings I would awken and lay in bed wake..dreaming for what seemed like hours.
The smells of grandma's rose and flower garden mingled with the smell of sunny Sundays.
The BBC wafted in through kitchen and bedroom windows.Mozart and Sinatra tag teamed against The Ink Spots and, Stan Getz. The Swallows flew back to Capistrano on yearning wings.
Then up and out on walk and sprint to the Caribbean sea, a gem coated shimmering twinkling dancing blanket of rising sun meets amniotic blue churning as froth and mist drifted in a sunday sermon from the water's deep and shallow.
A bubbling embrace as sprint turns to
Swan dive into the Sunday morning sea.
Seven day ritual baptism in the Sunday morning sea...at one with and free.
Now.
A sprint to the bobbing fishing boats that never drew fish from their restfull retreats of the morning Sea.
Breakfast
The sounds of tinkling teacups another ritual as granny stirred brown sugar and condensed milk into a carmel swirling with Johnny Cakes and coconut oil fried eggs waiting and wafting out
To the Sunday morning sea.
My Puppy and me then down through the flower garden.
Of we scampered with cares falling away and secrets to share while throwing stones into
The Sunday morning sea
My puppy named Ranger,barefeet and knee pants the hot sting on my ankle from a chastising fire ant rudly stabs at my reverie
As far as the horizon will let.
My imagination flees and unfetters to shores unknown that kiss and caresses my Sunday morning sea.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
Can peanuts breathe within their shell?
When they’re eaten, might they go to hell?
Or are they, truly, lifeless nuts
No sadness, madness, or stagnant ruts
Perhaps the peanut has a king
A mighty ruler that makes the law
Or perhaps the peanut has a queen
A tender mother without flaw
Who knows, the peanut could be grand
With magical tales of Peanut land
Castles, Wizards and Warrior hunts
Pursuing their foes, Macadamia Nuts!
Galloping upon their steeds
Peanut’s charge! Peanuts Breathe!
Screams so loud the birds doth fall
Pulverizing the enemy’s wall
Now the Peanuts have an “in”
They focus their gaze upon the ****
Hoarding together & funneling thru
Macadamia nuts receiving a chill
Piercing shells for 3 long days
Injured Peanuts in gruesome ways
Mournful moans of agony
Numbers declined, so tragically
Is this the end of Peanut land?
Why couldn’t the Peanut still be grand?
“Get up I say and finish your quest!”
The Peanuts did and fought their best
Above the smoke, white flags flew
The Peanuts emerged victorious!
Striding thru familiar front gates
Returning home, so glorious!
Perhaps, in fact, this story is true
That Peanuts breathe like me and you
But one might wonder of Peanut land…
How Peanuts ride with no hands
And if you truly wish to know
How Peanuts talk and Peanuts grow
Open your ears and do come hither
“Duh! The Peanuts have a Wizard!”
Oh, the tales and jokes they tell
One day, they’ll be on TV
Perhaps in films known by all
Like, “Harry Peanut,” aired by BBC
Or, maybe they are just meant for our bars
And smashed and spread upon your bread…
But next time you eat this salt sprinkled treat,
Ponder, “am I sure this Peanut is dead?”
- BPW
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
west london fire stories
burning up the day,
london fires burning down and out
before they burn away
daily all day robes
and a story i can't finish
i won't make it out, there's too much
i don't want to say
so late in the day
wasting life away
unheard singing
should probably count for something
maybe today, maybe today, maybe today
so late in the day
instant coffee,
INFP, unfinished story
cheap chinese burning debris
blazing away on the bbc
so late in the day, so late in the day, so late in the day
& the day becomes another day
must be so nice to be you
always voting for justin trudeau
all your better things to do,
all the better looking women you were born to pursue
london fires burn down and out
before they burn away
& the day becomes another day
maybe today, maybe today, maybe today
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 4:29 AM UTC
. what's the difference between
thieves, and magicians?
not much...
both have quick hands...
and an awake,
yet asleep public communal
presence...
the thief has a public of
the victim,
and the c.c.t.v. "stage"...
the magician?
has a public of the crowd,
and the "dajjal" stage of
a camera replenishing
a concept of:
not enough public...
thieves and magicians are
bedfellows...
you allow one to flourish...
the antithesis will come
along, and in an indiscriminate
fashion...
allow the "magic" / "thieving"
to take place...
what is a magician,
a public figure... compared...
to a thief?
i can't see the difference...
the audience was fooled
by the magician...
the individual was fooled
by the thief...
are they... so much unlike
each other?
magicians can own
a theater stage...
thieves, sometimes... just sometimes...
own the, basic...
pointlessness of english
c.c.t.v. mechanics,
to make police officers make:
a follow-up investigation...
oh, but i have genius
interrogation practices...
no one wants to listen to...
like 10 hours straights of listening
to stefan molyneux...
or 48 hours, sleep deprived...
listening to BBC 24 hour news reels...
that **** could crack anyone...
what the americans did to the Iraqis?
last time i heard...
they blasted the slayer oeuvre
down headphones into their ears...
Americans... feeding conquered
Iraqis with a slayer oeuvre?
BRAVO! BRAVO! ENCORE!
and didn't the encore come?
******* retards...
crows feeding seagull chicks
with sinew and
regurgitated scavenger meat!
if only they played them some
Bach...
i'm pretty sure...
the Iraqis would still be left...
disorientated...
but the American army "interrogators"...
ha ha!
played them the slayer oeuvre!
WEE-TARDS!
anyone... and i mean anyone:
will relieve themselves as being
"tortured": doubly charged up,
and ready to ingest hyper-coffee
in the form of the Luftwaffe tactic
of ingesting amphetamines
(pervitin) -
night-raids... the londoonoirnischt
blitz, sloth krieg...
ya ya yawn...
urgh... burp...
and always... those poncy -
english, gay, aristocratic men...
and their... psychotropic women...
so what's the difference between
a common thief...
and a spectacle magician?
one "owns" cctv footage,
the other owns a stage...
yet both share a: quicksilver
take on, what cannot be
interpreted in either handwriting
or stenography...
hmm...
can't be sure whether
both could be considered legal.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC
Loaded dice love affairs
with snake eyed girl, downstairs
on chance, is multiplying on chance:
roll, bet, blackout, squeeze and a dance
with the winner.
He’s tall, with a
casino shirt and a seven card suit.
Linked up to the left arm of him is
8 ball eyed girl. She potted her way ‘round the table,
blonde haired wisps of hair
occasionally covering her view.
And now snake eyes is no longer new.
She left with haste, a wind a scent following her tail,
back to her hotel room, complimentary towels, free shampoo.
**Check out the blog for poems and pamphlets>> http://www.coffeeshoppoems.com/
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 6:47 PM UTC
There you were:
Second to last track
Side 1, “Atlantic Soul Classics”.1987
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. (Take out the TCP)
The power, the control, the energy,
Never heard a **** thing like it.
Then that Cliff Richard Show footage I saw on some old BBC clip show (yeah, I know…Cliff, eh?)
“Don’t Play That Song” in crackly black & white
Sorry for the language, Sister.. but **** the power of your piano playing in that moment made me realise that you were not “just a singer” but a full-on force to be reckoned with.
Like Sinatra you studied lyrics like a monk deep in illumination and then blew the song away with your received otherworldly knowledge:
Eleanor Rigby
The Weight
The Dark End of The Street
Border Song
Bridge Over Troubled Water
I Say A Little Prayer
Oh, these were your songs, now. Don’t let anyone forget it.
But there was something more to you than all of this.
The way MLK kissed you with beaming pride at some long, forgotten award ceremony.
The way you sashayed African culture when you stepped out in public.
The way you ripped up your own records when you tread the boards & faced your humbled audience.
The way you stood by Angela Davis when she was hooked up on some stupid jackshit Hoover charge.
The way you verbalized the black American experience not just through countless moments of sheer liberation but in the solemn way you stepped up to the piano on Amazing Grace
You comforted this whiter-than-white Paddy on more than one occasion and forged a path of hope in many of his troubled waters.
Oh, God we will miss you & your power – all of it.
That once in a millennia voice whose measured restraint & joyful release touched millions.
You will never walk alone.
Farewell Queen.
You are finally at peace.
Thank you, thank you Ms. Franklin
Sean M. O’Kane
16/8/18
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
Colombian drug lords, so
fearing the dog's superlative
abilities, put a hit out on the
medal-winning K9 agent
Colombian drug cartel has put out
a $70,000 hit on a drug-sniffing
German shepherd after she helped
authorities discover nearly 10 tons
of the group’s *******
Sombra “Shadow” in English,
has since been relocated by authorities
after the Urabeños, considered
Colombia’s most powerful criminal
organization, put the price on her head,
reported the BBC on Thursday;
the 6-year-old canine having an
incredibly successful career as a
drug sniffer thus far; having
uncovered a record amount of narcotics
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
A leitmotif of your average smug **** is a proverb here and there.
Spouting them off like the receptor has no care.
Their evidential naivety is blatant and almost impossible to bear.
As an audience member you can do nothing but hide your malevolence and stare.
******* in maxims that are apparently laced with benevolence and care.
You know the kind of oxygen waster I’m referring to.
The type of person that watches BBC 4 and likes tofu.
The kind that does the Financial Times So-fucking-Do-Ku.
Look I’m just saying that clichés annoy me.
I’m not asking you to love me, give me a reach around or employ me.
In fact you don’t even have to enjoy me as I tell you of things that matter not.
Suture yourself hypothetically to a geographically different mind. That mind being mine, oh that maverick-esque mischievous mind of mine, looking at this from my perspective.
In my transcendental endeavours to rid the clichéd ridden world of the afore mentioned adjective.
In the opposite of anachronistic times, we might successfully, surreptitiously rid the world of moral coated rhymes.
We can do this; all it takes is a few. One of which needs to be you.
Break out from being solipsistic, even the blind, the meek, the autistic, those that besmirch the edge of coffee cups with their lipstick.
Yes, I mean you. Here is what to do…
The next time someone spouts off a cliché, punish them, make them listen to an album by “Hearsay.”
If someone says “An Apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Then simply say, Steve Jobs had thousands and the here’s the definite answer, that consumerism inducer still died of cancer.
If a woman says “When I say jump. You say how high!” Don’t even cogitate to pardon her.
If the grass is always greener on the other side – shoot your ******* gardener.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
The BBC have a new weather girl,
Her hair is blond and her necklace... pearl,
She warns bearded fishermen about rough seas,
While I stand here with my boxers,
Around my knees.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 6:40 PM UTC
Cycling past buisness girls on his way through Camden town
between towering grey buildings and tourists that frown
The lights turns to red and like a one legged man at the curb
he drifts off to a land that to some, seems absurb
Where honey-eyed tales of piglet and Pooh
are driven by toads tooting, **** **** poo
Peddling along the reeling, rolling,rambeling road some drunkard guy made
on famiular BBC air waves his voice often played
Through rich green ridings, wild moor and dales
2-50 stands the church clock that so sweetly never fails
Hatless on Ilkley, bathed and bathed in York
tea-time fancies at Harrogate, whilst watching like some Kes pearched hawk
Nodding and humming to sounds of the Brighouse and Rastric bands
and still finding time to paddle a little,
on sun drenched Gigglewick sands
Red turns to green as he wobbles and peddles away down Boris's yellow brick road
To Settel, for supper with
Raty
Mole
Badger
and Toad
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 8:59 AM UTC
If you believe in flat earth
Read on
If not
Be gone, thoughts.
Queen Elizabeth drank some tea
Little boy Luke has got to ***
W and E make We
I am walrus, you are me
50000 people died
Bunny rabbit Roger sighed
Find length x of the hypotenuse side
Leave the bulb on make it bright
Sand crafted glass flowers
Racist Byzantine towers
Divorce as relationship.sours
Home great female powers
Morbidly obese
Dinosyus reads
Heeds
California dreams
Mesopotamian valleys of death
Soaring national debt
Xy ** chromosome 46
I don't want to not to take no risk
Bees
Bees
Bees
Ottoman sultanate
Armenians venerate
New born degenerate
Excessively exterminate
I never could see any other way
Hey soul sister hey there Delilah
Hey jude hey
Equatorial saliva
She sells sea shells on the sea shore
He sells he shells on the the he shore
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ட்ஜ்கம் Vலப்பிக்கவபி ஜே. கோக். ஸ்யுஜ்ஜிடு பின்Iஈக்வயஜ் Nராவ் உப பியூன்Xஊ
Yo John Cena
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 5:02 PM UTC
A recent BBC Headline reads: US orders ban on trans-fats. In a day when fat-discrimination has been thought to have stopped, the US is discriminating against the fine and upstanding obese community. Eliminating trans-fats from food will save lives by preventing heart attacks, but it will also eliminate fat jokes, which will set back standup comedy for years to come. Health experts say that Americans continue to consume too much foods with trans-fats, even with trans-fats information labeled on food; in scientific studies done by Dr. Kazuo Takitani, research shows that Americans "Do Not Give A **** about their health due to entitlement and fatty privilege. Taking trans-fats out of food will reduce coronary heart disease, but it will also make fat people who are stupid more confident, not necessarily smarter. Supporters of French Fries have taken to the streets and are calling on President Obama to stop the War on trans-fats. The Obama administration has responded with a statement in regards to the trans-fat crisis, and have said, "Go To The Gym." Obese people are in danger of becoming skinny, and already the obese population of the United States, are hoarding Cheetos and pizza rolls in their ***** packs, in order to stop the madness. In this day and age, health is a choice, skinny and **** people, the ones who are supporting the ban on trans-fats, do not know the irreparable damage they are doing to the fat American white male, who's narrative will always be ingrained in the American consciousness. A chubby boy named Paulie was interviewed earlier today as he was eating French fries and a large soda: "The government doesn't care about Fat people. We deserve better treatment. We matter. We exist. How am I supposed to survive without Mickey D's fries? Do I look like I can exercise? I'm moving to Canada." When Paulie was informed that Canada was strongly thinking about following in the US's footsteps, Paulie suffered from food coma and passed out in his chair. The United States is slowly turning towards becoming healthy and fi; many people oppose this trend, while others embrace it; all that can be said is that change will shocking, can give some people a new perspective on life. Stay tuned for more details. Now here's Marcus with today's weather report.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC