ARK Music Factory = Suck

There’s been a lot of noise about someone named Rebecca Black in my corner of the internet lately, most of it shit talk about a song she sings called Friday.  It’s easily one of the worst songs I’ve ever heard, but the girl is fucking thirteen, so of course it’s one of the worst songs I’ve ever heard.  I’m not a person who hangs onto shit, so – to the best of my knowledge – there isn’t a single trace of any of my creative output from when I was thirteen, but if there was, I sure as hell wouldn’t share it with the internet because there’s no way it belongs anywhere outside the Pee Chee folder it was kept in.

Here, watch this:

I’m not going to make fun of her and I’m not going to defend her.  Mostly, I’m writing this to say the following:  Fuck the people behind ARK Music Factory (the vanity record label that produced this shit).  Fuck them for a few reasons, really.  Fuck them for contributing to the mediocrity that’s face-raping American pop culture and fuck them for making me realize that Justin Bieber’s actually pretty goddamn talented.  Oh, I hate you bastards for that.

Fucking horrible.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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