“Glee was about underage drinking.”
By C. Pappas, March 1 2011
Yeah…………..I watch Glee, so I had better ward off any hate right from the start. The intent of the post isn’t to discuss anyone’s taste in television. Honestly, I don’t know why I watch it in the first place. I hate drama and musicals, and that’s literally the show’s entire premise. Something about it is appealing; something I cannot identify.
Frankly, I’m a bit disgusted with the spectacle that episode was. It obviously didn’t fully support the alcoholic endeavors of teenagers, but it certainly didn’t condemn them. The producers knowingly aired a show that made seem underage drinking okay to a nationwide audience, one of a predominately teen-aged demographic. That seems strange, does it not?
I suppose I might just take offense from this because of my own strong, personal ideals. I have never drank, nor have I done drugs of any sort, and I pride myself highly on that. Sometimes I feel conflicted on the matter, as so many people do and enjoy it, but it always feels like the right choice when refuse when the opportunity arises, or simply when I’m thinking about it to myself and am reminded of my ability to say I’ve never done anything before. That being said, I will not hate you because you do happen to partake. It’s so entirely unrealistic for a person to expect everyone around them to have the same exact beliefs as them, and I accept this readily. Just something to get used to as the years press on.
No, I’m not straightedge: I don’t like that label, with the connotations of militant idealism, image, and what not. I simply don’t consume substances, and plan on keeping it that way for quite a while. Judging by my recent, premiere party-going experience, it may be a lonely path.
By C. Pappas, March 1 2011
Yeah…………..I watch Glee, so I had better ward off any hate right from the start. The intent of the post isn’t to discuss anyone’s taste in television. Honestly, I don’t know why I watch it in the first place. I hate drama and musicals, and that’s literally the show’s entire premise. Something about it is appealing; something I cannot identify.
Frankly, I’m a bit disgusted with the spectacle that episode was. It obviously didn’t fully support the alcoholic endeavors of teenagers, but it certainly didn’t condemn them. The producers knowingly aired a show that made seem underage drinking okay to a nationwide audience, one of a predominately teen-aged demographic. That seems strange, does it not?
I suppose I might just take offense from this because of my own strong, personal ideals. I have never drank, nor have I done drugs of any sort, and I pride myself highly on that. Sometimes I feel conflicted on the matter, as so many people do and enjoy it, but it always feels like the right choice when refuse when the opportunity arises, or simply when I’m thinking about it to myself and am reminded of my ability to say I’ve never done anything before. That being said, I will not hate you because you do happen to partake. It’s so entirely unrealistic for a person to expect everyone around them to have the same exact beliefs as them, and I accept this readily. Just something to get used to as the years press on.
No, I’m not straightedge: I don’t like that label, with the connotations of militant idealism, image, and what not. I simply don’t consume substances, and plan on keeping it that way for quite a while. Judging by my recent, premiere party-going experience, it may be a lonely path.
A Feeding Bell by Ram Choi
From a flattened piece of assortments shines light,
Scorching man's eyes with His shame.
Had the two not cried dry tears from the fruit forbidden?
The shame! How despised is the shame!
His garden today is but an extinct fraud,
For distance died the moment the light shined.
Mothers struggle in trembling hope that
The young, someday - somehow, will
Surpass the laws of a horrid nature
By simply believing in, simply wishing for
What is but a fraudulent mockery!
Yet the light continues to shine, parasitically
Invading times of our blissful darkness.
The miniature darkness that remained, now plagued!
Oh! What a prison we have created with the forbidden!
To lighten at will; but to darken, never.
Thus begins the true cancer of the fruit,
Not the whispers of a merciful Creator,
For He could not bear this shame, but rather,
the sickening horrors of the shame itself.
The meadows turned into desolate wasteland,
The masses enslaved into desperate bones,
The innocent ruined with cancerous winds,
The body count of infants dead reaching thousands every hour.
The masses living under two dollars a day numbering half mankind.
The boys forced into shooting their beloved mothers and sisters.
The lies! The deceptions! The rapes! The murders! The crimes!
The tortures! Yet the red river grows only faster!
The apathy! Oh, the apathy!
How infinitely appealing is the apathy!
For those of us to whom the light itself exposed!
How overly joyful is the thought of being a blindfully wretched mule!
Mindless yet free! Free from a light that haunts-
Only the men!
Only the shame!
Yet... yet, blindness is a mere act for a mule like I.
At least I have learned to play my part well.
The shame, I learned, would not feed me otherwise.
Hark! There's the bell! There's the bell! There's the bell!
From a flattened piece of assortments shines light,
Scorching man's eyes with His shame.
Had the two not cried dry tears from the fruit forbidden?
The shame! How despised is the shame!
His garden today is but an extinct fraud,
For distance died the moment the light shined.
Mothers struggle in trembling hope that
The young, someday - somehow, will
Surpass the laws of a horrid nature
By simply believing in, simply wishing for
What is but a fraudulent mockery!
Yet the light continues to shine, parasitically
Invading times of our blissful darkness.
The miniature darkness that remained, now plagued!
Oh! What a prison we have created with the forbidden!
To lighten at will; but to darken, never.
Thus begins the true cancer of the fruit,
Not the whispers of a merciful Creator,
For He could not bear this shame, but rather,
the sickening horrors of the shame itself.
The meadows turned into desolate wasteland,
The masses enslaved into desperate bones,
The innocent ruined with cancerous winds,
The body count of infants dead reaching thousands every hour.
The masses living under two dollars a day numbering half mankind.
The boys forced into shooting their beloved mothers and sisters.
The lies! The deceptions! The rapes! The murders! The crimes!
The tortures! Yet the red river grows only faster!
The apathy! Oh, the apathy!
How infinitely appealing is the apathy!
For those of us to whom the light itself exposed!
How overly joyful is the thought of being a blindfully wretched mule!
Mindless yet free! Free from a light that haunts-
Only the men!
Only the shame!
Yet... yet, blindness is a mere act for a mule like I.
At least I have learned to play my part well.
The shame, I learned, would not feed me otherwise.
Hark! There's the bell! There's the bell! There's the bell!
