Other: Proof There is No God, Part II
I like jazz of the fusion (Dave Brubeck) and traditional (Miles Davis) variety. I prefer Old Country (Johnny Cash) to New (Garth Brooks), but I don't mind some of Brooks' songs. I listen to punk from the beginning (Ramones) and recently produced (Green Day). I've got old folkies (Stan Rogers) in my collection beside rappers (Eminem) and electronica (Alabama 3). Louis Armstrong and Cole Porter and Stephen Sondheim share time with David Lindley and The Beatles and Johann Sebastian Bach.
These performers all have different values, different sounds, and different moods they fit into or evoke, and different reasons to appreciate them.
But this, THIS is utterly unbearable: The Times They Are A-Changin', a Broadway Musical based on the songs of (how could you!?) Bob Dylan.
Now, the idea could have been decent enough: there is a lot of drama in his music, and lots of it was written at a time of great turmoil in America. So the director decided to go with all the gravitas that Alfalfa, Buckwheat, Spanky and the rest of Our Gang would use for "Puttin' on a SHOW! C'mon, gang! Yay!"
Need proof? Here is Like a Rolling Stone, performed live by a young man that I cannot imagine has ever heard of Bob Dylan, much less listened to him. It comes complete with spandex-clad dancers and, er, what I suppose are rolling stones, in case the audience was blessedly hard of hearing.
All who are responsible for this abomination must be called to task. There have to be laws somewhere, anywhere pertaining to the destruction of decency that these "people", if I may call them that, can be charged with. If not, I'm sure we can improvise something.
Freeze their assets.
Set their homes on fire.
Shave their cats.
Anything to bring them the suffering they have forced upon an unsuspecting world.
The first proof is here.