Those who know me will be well aware of my loathing for what is generally called "mainstream media".
It is of course, no more than the propaganda machine for our wonderful billionaire corporate fascism, a mouth piece for our Western imperialism. I have spouted my mouth off about it, written about it and even written poems about it. While browsing I came across this "media dictionary" it makes very enlightening reading.
I have posted a couple of wee poems that might help to give a better desription of the mainstream media.
By John Hartfield.
ENDLESS BABBLE.
The questions arise. Why war and hunger?
Why does poverty continue to linger?
Why such need in a world of wealth?
Why put a price on a child’s health?
Confused and angry the public stand
gazing in disbelief at this pathetic band.
Those shiney politicians designed by spin
their street credibility paper thin,
the great persuaders looking the mood
struggling so hard just for our good!
Masters of the art of wheeling and dealing
exceptional experts at legal stealing.
Enter the Media, drowning us all in trivial text,
everything you need know
of scandal and sport, crime and sex.
Together they create a world of confusion
all fashion and style, a vicious illusion.
So no matter how often we point at need,
we always drown in a sea of greed,
no debate entered into, no answers found,
the waffle the babble goes round and round.
ROBOTS.
With spin doctors now in full flight
we’ve entered a new era, a brand new age,
no need to think just follow the plan
experts will guide you through the difficult stage,
soon dear consumer, you’ll see the light.
Let Fashion Gurus dictate your style
the colour the length where to be seen
the music you buy the games you play
who to worship from the silver screen
the latest icon, just for a while.
The Media teaches us all we need know
of scandal and sport, crime and sex
who slept with who and where,
who kiss and tell just for the cheques,
depicting society as a smutty peepshow.
Mindless telly invades your home
banal boring bromide, cliched crap
trifling trite trivia and petty pulp
sport, sex and violence always on tap,
churning your brain to a frothy foam.
Programmers with programmes you must pursue
specialists have advice you must take,
freethinking at all cost must be avoided
spontaneity is obviously a mistake
our Leader’s voice the only view.
Each of us, a programmed dual-purpose robot
some to serve, some to produce,
all to function as constant consumers
our first, our last, our only use
in this cabal of cambist’s insidious plot.
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