There was a song posted to Adagio’s Whotube channel called ‘The Memory of Sand.’ A melancholic, peaceful work rhythmed to beating waves, combining violin and voice across many languages into perfect hymn. Adagio spent hundreds of hours just writing and singing it, then more in creating a simple music video of her walking along the shore. It gave everyone in the dorm chills to hear it, and when Sunset played it for her friend Rarity, the girl burst out in tears.
Adagio watched it play on her screen, her expression flat. sixty-eight views, up two from last week. One-point-seven cents in ad revenue. One comment by “PhoenixGir1” assuring her of how awesome it was.
Her channel played in the background as Adagio clicked over to her Paytreon. Still steady at four donors: “PhoenixGir1,” “WallpowerCrush,” “Applejack.Apple.” Plus “SwallowMeMommy69,” which honestly wasn’t worth five bucks a month.
The song ended, then moved on to the next. Something… different.
A twang of steel strings, the scream of a bald eagle, and Adagio’s voice belting across the room.
“WAEL this ol’ truck and me have gone
a life or two as one.
And if yew think that’s bad, yew better
think again, mah son.”
“Adagio, are you okay?”
Wallflower immodestly leaned over her shoulder to peer at the screen. Adagio brought the Whotube up for her roommate, showcasing a video of herself in Applejack’s ill-fitting clothes and hat belting the tune in a horrible rural accent.
Wallflower slurped her Cola noisily. “I mean it, are you okay? Blink twice if you’re brainwashed.”
“Oh, shut up.” Adagio chuckled, pushing Wallflower back. “This is called ‘Last Ride Home, Sweet Honey.’ It’s a touching melody about a patriotic American gun-owner who has to mercy-kill the dying old truck he loves.”
“Blink twice.”
“It’s a joke, Wallflower. Country music is trash and I distilled everything trashy about it into a single song. I made it all up on the spot while Applejack filmed me.”
“She was cool with it?” Wallflower asked.
Adagio pointed, smiling with the memory. “Observe how the camera keeps shaking. She spent the whole song trying not to laugh and had to run out before the end, it’s why things are about to go sideways.”
Sure enough, the camera dropped, taking Adagio out of sight for the rest of the video. At the very end, it cut off halfway through her last note.
“Because I started cracking up. We did it in Applejack’s barn at like midnight and woke up all their animals laughing.”
“Cool,” Wallflower said. She wandered off, leaving Adagio basking in the memory.
She went to click over to her budget tab, then paused.
Sixty-thousand views on ‘Last Ride Home.’
She blinked. Sixty-thousand and thirty.
Forty comments. “I can’t stop crying! This was beautiful!!!!”
“I FELT THIS ONE! also, nice tits :)”
“Why r ur other songs in Spanish? MORE OF THIS”
“my uncle bob had a truck he loved for 19 years. I played this for him and all the memories came pouring back. GOD BLESS AMERICA!”
“Swallow me, mommy.”
Adagio went to bed.
She woke up the next morning. Checked. One-hundred thousand views. Sixty-five comments. Eleven new paytrons. And counting.
She took a long sip of her morning coffee then set down the mug.
“Oh, no.”
Two weeks later, she checked her phone in the silver elevator. Two million views. And counting.
She dressed for the meeting. White leather with tassels and sequins, with red boots and 10-gallon hat. Gaudy, stupid. It’s what they sent her to wear.
The elevator chimed open on the 66th floor. She walked out to a marble hallway with many closed doors and a dour secretary behind a pristine desk.
The red carpet was so thick Adagio’s heels left imprints as she walked forwards. “Hi, I have the three o’clock with Satan?”
The secretary stood, beckoned her to follow, and walked Adagio down a long, large hallway with golden chandeliers. It ended at a massive door that she rapped on once, then held open for Adagio to enter.
At a desk sized like a banquet table, a man lounged with snakeskin books propped up and unlit cigar in his mouth. He had red skin, goat horns, and black plastic glasses beneath his 40-gallon hat.
“Wow,” Adagio said. “Literally Satan. Okay.”
“Hello to you too, kid.”
She looked at the secretary. “Aren’t you freaked out?”
“I’ve been in this business for a while,” the woman replied dully. “He’s about average as far as music executives go.”
“I set the bar!” Satan replied cheerfully as the secretary made her retreat. “But enough about me. How’s my next country music idol doing today?”
Adagio folded her arms. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“You’ll live the stardom dream and get giant piles of cash,” Satan said, lighting his cigar with a $100 bill. “No one ever says no.”
Adagio huffed and threw back her curls, though gave half a nod. “Fair. But level with me, Satan. People tell me you’re smart. The song was untuned, had no regular rhythm, and was about shooting a truck. It was a joke, and a really dumb one. As music, it sucked. You actually called me over for my good stuff, right?”
Satan took his sweet time, blowing a long puff of smoke into the air before responding. “Yeah, no. No one cares how good you sing, Fish-tits. You’re popular, and getting a hot piece of ass as our new star will help us make inroads with the horny single male demographic. Plus you live in Canterlot, and this is where my label is hosting a big music concert next month.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, the Canterlot Country Convention. I wanted to spell it all with K’s to be cool and trendy but for some reason marketing threw a fit. Anyway, getting a local internet celebrity to be our surprise star and from there launch her career gives us a feel-good story and a publicity bonanza for when we sell your first album in three months.”
“Three months.” Adagio hissed in, looking to the side. “I… you know what, I can take a challenge. One month for writing, one for practicing, one for finalizing. I think I can give you something good to work with. A general theme of longing for a nostalgic past that was never as perfect as you recall, then learning to accept the joys of the present.”
Satan laughed abruptly, choked on his smoke, sneezed, and laughed some more. “Man you’re cute. Corporate will do the songwriting to make sure everything’s marketable. You just come in, do a take, and we fix it up with sound editing. Bam-boom-bang, a hundred million in the bank with a cool million for yourself. Minus fees, taxes, expenses, surcharges, and corporate cuts, but it beats starving.”
Adagio frowned to the floor. “Will you publish my good stuff, too?”
“Sorry, high art doesn’t sell,” Satan said, chomping merrily on his cigar. “And if it doesn’t sell, what’s the point?”
Adagio tried her own little smirk. “What if I made that a condition of my acceptance?”
“Then we’d have something to talk about if I believed you in the slightest.” Satan tossed a wrapped brick of money to Adagio, striking her boot. “You can be a millionaire star, or beg for change on Paytreon. I’d call it your choice but let’s be real, you’ve already decided.”
He stretched back in his chair, crossing his boots, puffing happily to the air. “That brick is the first part of your appearance fee. Come in two weeks for the dress rehearsal.
Satan watched, chuckling as Adagio bent down to collect the money.
The cheers of the Canterlot Country Convention were muffled in Adagio’s dressing room. That is to say, the team’s van. She sat in her glittering leathers, the stupid white hat on her head, staring into the wall.
“So this is what my life has become. Either I sell out the one firm set of morals I’ve held my entire life, that of the sacred artistry of music, or I let this chance go and disappear into obscurity. The music industry is as cutthroat as any siren gang, Wallflower. I’ll never get a break like this again.”
She rested on a tiny bench in the van’s body. Wallflower sat on the one facing her, munching a moist, brown treat. Her other hand held one more, and she offered it. “Caramel-fried butter on a stick?”
Adagio leaned away. “Wallflower, that is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen you eat and that’s saying something.”
“Your loss.” Wallflower held the treat low, and their third bit it out of her hand.
The puppy-sized kirin trotted over to a convenient plate and dropped the butter. “Thanks! This tastes really gross but I love new experiences!”
“Hey, no interrupting.” Adagio waved down Autumn Blaze and pointed at herself. “We’re talking about me. I’m at a pivotal moment in my life, all options suck, and I’m hoping for a little support.”
Wallflower shrugged. “Adagio, I’m a gormless loser with no skills or ambitions. I’ll do my best but I’m still hung up on why making millions is a bad thing.”
“Did you read the song lineup?”
“Yep.” Wallflower flipped open the pamphlet. “You go onstage between ‘Jesus owned an AR-15’ and ‘It’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.’ Followed by a steel-string cover of the Statue of Liberty’s poem, edited to remove all reference to welcoming immigrants.”
She snapped it closed. “You’re a sellout, so what? Sunset part-times at a gas station, it’s not like working for an industry killing the planet makes her less cool.”
Adagio shook her head. “Big difference. This isn’t just a payday for me, this is a corruption of who I am. This is me trying to turn my skill and passion into a career and deciding whether to sacrifice my soul or my shot.”
“I’ll support you no matter what you do!” Autumn cheered, her snoot covered in oozing butter.
“Yeah, same,” Wallflower mumbled. “I still feel like I’m the last person you should ask for advice. Why’d you have us come?”
“Not ‘us,’” Adagio corrected. “You’re the one who brought the fleabag.”
“I wanted to be involved,” Autumn said.
“Yeah, she wanted to be involved.”
“Anyway,” Adagio pressed. “Who said I was asking your advice? I made my decision. But I need your help.”
“Not Sunset or Applejack?” Wallflower asked. “The people good at helping?”
“No. Sunset would try to talk me out of it. And Applejack would try to talk me out of it and succeed. I swear that woman has some siren in her blood, she has me low-key hypnotized to obey her every command.”
“That’s called love,” Wallflower said, then burped.
“I never said I love her.”
“Whatever.”
“The point is, they’d try to talk me out of taking blatantly self-destructive actions. I’m not just ending my career, Wallflower. I’m blowing it up with fireworks and C-4 in a way that places me tremendously at risk. I’m about to burn my hopes and dreams to the ground, and you’re the only one I can count on to back me up.”
“Me too, right?” Autumn Blaze asked.
“No.”
Wallflower hopped out of her seat, and solemnly laid a hand on Adagio’s shoulder. Muddy brown eyes met magenta, holding them for a few seconds before she gave a single nod.
“I gotchu, fam.”
She pulled back the hand, leaving a stain of melted caramel on Adagio’s white leathers.
“What a great performance, folks! While we get our next singer ready, our sponsor Queen Chrysalis Tobacco wants to remind you that smoking is the surest way to own the liberals, so light up!”
“On in five, Fish-tits.” Satan panted, fanning himself with a brick of money. “Man, what is wrong with your city? It’s freaking October and I’m sweating my balls off.”
“Autumn in Canterlot lasts five minutes. Next month there’s usually snow.” Adagio tugged at her collar. “But isn’t your hometown, like, literally on fire?”
Satan shook his head. “Propaganda. Don’t get me wrong, Hell sucks, just in different ways. It’s why we love country music, gives us a chance to hit up Earth for a while.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Satan pushed his hand through the curtain, letting them see the stage. “Ever since the punk scene got infested with Nazis we’ve been migrating to country. All those security guards? Disguised demons. So stay on script, Sugar-lips.”
“Oh!” Adagio blinked, then grinned. “This will be more fun than I thought.”
“What do you mean by–”
“HELLO, CANTERLOT!” Adagio belted, slipping to the stage with flourish and thunderous applause. “My name is Adagio Dazzle, and I’m rootin’ tootin’ happy to be here!”
Satan hissed from behind her. “Stage name, stage name! You’re Sweet Suzy Peach, remember? And you’re supposed to thank God for bringing you here!”
Adagio ignored him, continuing cheerfully into the microphone. “When I recorded ‘Last Ride Home, Sweet Honey’ I never...”
She hissed under her breath. “Ever...”
“...Thought little ol’ me would get to perform it to a live audience.”
Her smile shrunk, become less stage-like. More genuine. It curled at its tips. Her down-slant eyebrows turned it to an evil leer.
“But that’s an old ditty by now. What say I play something new?”
The response, of course, was ecstatic. Humans were so easy to string along.
“Alrighty.” Adagio slipped her arm from the guitar’s shoulder strap, leaving it loose in her hands.
She then reared back and slammed it to the ground, sending feedback through the speakers as the guitar shattered around its built-in mic. She pulled off the outfit with one motion, leaving her with stiletto boots, a black miniskirt, and a chest-wrap made of black tape.
She put her mouth close to the mic, letting her words pop into the air. “We’re gonna have a death metal variant of Katy Perry’s ‘I Kissed a Girl.’”
Death metal was hardly Adagio’s preference. But she had the lungs and scream to make it work.
“I FUCKED A GIRL AND I LIKED IT
LEAVE TRANS PEOPLE ALONE YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES
I FUCKED A GIRL CAUSE I’M A LESBIAN
HOPE HER DAUGHTER DOESN’T MIND IT
IT DON’T FEEL WRONG
IT FEELS RIGHT
I’M A CRIMINAL IN 72 COUNTRIES
I TAKE MY GIRL AND FUCK HER ALL NIGHT”
The crowd was… noisy? But nothing more. Some were yelling angrily, others seemed really into it. Humans are weird.
Security, though. At some signal from Satan, they turned and began clambering up the stage. Horns and red skin dominated, swaggering with clubs as they drew near.
“You could have just said ‘no,’” Satan sneered from behind her. “But now you ruined my concert and we’re gonna have to teach you a–”
A turd-colored van ripped through the curtain, squealing to a stop next to Adagio.
Wallflower leaned out. “Get in!”
“One second!” Adagio dashed over to Satan and slugged him in the stomach. He doubled-over, mumbling something about tolerance. She snatched up the stack of bills he was fanning himself with and sped back to the van.
The guards charged to intercept. Adagio’s grin glowed white and twin daggers appeared in her hands. She danced, laughing mockingly, speeding the silver weapons across throats and through ribs. Empty clothes fell to the ground, bereft of banished demons, marking her path.
Adagio laid hand on the passenger door as Satan shouted from the ground. “Enjoy flipping burgers, you dumb bitch! No music label will ever have you ever again. We don’t need idiots we can’t control!”
Adagio took her hand from the door. “One more second.”
“They’re breaking my windows!” Wallflower shrieked.
“Yeah, yeah.” Adagio sped back to Satan and kicked him hard in the gut. “That’s what you get for calling me dumb!”
“What about bitch?”
“I know what I am.” Adagio returned quickly to the van and leaped into the passenger seat.
Wallflower hunched over the wheel as it sped off. “You are gonna get me kEEEP!”
A clawed, muscled red arm reached in from the outside, seizing the small girl’s wrist and yanking. She went half-out, only kept in by Adagio grabbing her from the other side. Her feet still pressed the gas, but with no one on the wheel the van drove in circles.
In one of the dizzying spins, Adagio saw a small army of uniformed demons rushing towards them.
“Autumn Blaze! Turn into your fire monster form and let ‘em have it!”
The kirin bounced excitedly between the seats. “Sorry, that only works when we’re angry. I’d love to, but I’m just so happy to be on one of your adventures! Applejack tells me all about them and…”
“Then take the wheel!” Adagio screamed. Another tug by the clinging demon lifted Wallflower’s butt off the seat, and foot from the gas.
Adagio fumbled, bringing her own boot down on Wallflower’s side, feeling the girl pull slowly from her grip. “Do it!”
“Yay, I’m helping!” Autumn sprang up, putting her hooves on the steering wheel just as Adagio found the gas.
Autumn (who, as it happens, did not know how to drive) veered the car suddenly, shaking Wallflower’s aggressor but steering them right towards the demons. The good news was that they were in a speeding van – the demons dove out of the way and the car launched from the stage, landed hard, and took off into the fields around Canterlot.
They paused a moment to right themselves, and moved on towards the setting sun. Wallflower driving, Adagio in the passenger seat… and Autumn standing on Adagio’s lap, letting her front legs dangle out the window to watch the scenery go by. Adagio could put up with it, this time.
Adagio picked up the brick of money she swiped from Satan. She split it, and passed half over to Wallflower. The girl shoved it in her pocket without looking.
Wallflower clicked on the radio. “What did I say? I gotchu, fam.”
Unsurprisingly, the sudden surge on Adagio’s Paytreon vanished before paying. Whotube locked, then took down her truck song due to a flame war in the comments.
‘The Memory of Sand’… steady at seventy-eight views. Back to normal.
Almost. A few of the new Paytrons shockingly stuck around, and a few more wandered in. Adagio supposed there was no such thing as bad publicity. Hardly a livable income, but more than before.
Plus, a second comment had gone up on Memory of Sand. “Miss, I lost my wife last year. I couldn’t even cry at her funeral, but… it’s like this song turned a key in me. I cried all last night. But I feel happy today. For the first time, I feel like I didn’t die with her. Thank you, Miss. Thank you so much.”
...And a third, a fourth. “This got me through my bar exam. Thank you.”
“I have this song on repeat, it really fixed my writer’s block. :p”
She settled back in her chair, smiling, reading them over, and over, and over.
Then Adagio Dazzle clicked off her laptop, and pulled out her ink pot and vellum. Humming gently, she began writing her next song.
I have a coworker that likes country music and I will never understand why.
I want you to know this made me smile like an idiot.
I like how Autumn Blaze is just there.
With the way some people act, I'm guessing this isn't far off from reality.
Jesus owned an AR-15. Heh. Honestly, that's something I've thought a good bit about. Jesus, in His time on Earth, was a man of small means. Violence against fellow man is something to be condemned, but sometimes, unfortunately unavoidable. It is for this reason he said "if you don't own a sword, sell your cloak and buy one."
I have given this some thought as how exactly to translate this to the twenty-first century. Given the manner in which the sword was employed historically, it was really a backup weapon. Less effective than spears or hammers, but far better than daggers or being unarmed. Not very effective against armored adversaries as their pole-arm counterparts, but useful for all people, military and civilian.
The thing that fits this description best is a submachine gun, particularly third generation submachine guns, such as the MP5, MP9, one of the many variants of an AR platform in a pistol caliber, or MPX, to name a few. This also encompasses the personal defense weapon category that includes the P90 and MP7.
Unfortunately, due to the legal situation that many parts of the world face, an SMG is not accessible as an option, even though it is the best option for most people on paper.
There is a category of firearm that is accessible by many more people, but takes the place of the dagger in the modern world: the handgun.
So I would translate Jesus's quote to say "If you don't have a handgun, sell your phone and buy one."
As for what handgun Jesus would carry, well, that would be a first generation Smith and Wesson Shield, probably in 9mm. Why? Because it's very affordable, lightweight, decent but unremarkable capacity, and reliability.
It was also revealed to me in a dream.
BRB, I'm gonna need some marshmallows and a stick for the comments on this one.
I approve these names.
This chapter was very weird. Satan already appeared in a previous chapter and Wallflower seems to have lost a lot of personality, but I really liked the inclusion of Autumn and the small section at the end. youtube popularity (And social media popularity in general) is very difficult, and yeah, totally agree with this depiction of the music industry.
*Sucks in air through teeth* Yeah, that's a big oof for how true it is right now :(
This kinda felt like a chapter from a totally different story. Adagio and Wallflower felt OOC in the context of this series, just saying stuff for the gags or to keep the story going. It was pretty jarring.
This is also just my opinion, but I feel like Satan has been a wasted character in this story. You got a radically different threat than anything the hunters have faced, the literal prince of darkness who takes joy in ruining souls...and he’s a wimp who is scared of Nazis and easily bullied by the protagonists. He would have been more interesting as an enemy they *can’t* beat with fists or guns, a corrupter who can only be temporarily beaten back by mortals.
I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come for the story’s quality. I tried to be constructive with this criticism, so I hope you'll understand that I genuinely like your other content and I’m not trolling you.
Good to see ya back!
And yay! Wallflower and Autumn Blaze together again! That made me happy! Thanks!
It probably would've made the concert ten times as popular among the demographic though. Damn those marketing liberals and their cancel culture!
Wow, she really does write, doesn't she? The old fashioned way.
The tea in these comments is overflowing.
nice work
Swallow me mommy 69
WOW.
You're trying so hard.
Now there is a sentence I did not expect to ever heard.
... She punched the Devil in the gut, stole his cash, and fucked off. That's it, this is the best song ever, cue the song and dance number!
Vellum?
Hey, I will never give you shit for giving something else shit if it's funny. And this was.
.... Remind me what was my idea again???
Edit: (OHHHHHH IT"S THAT IDEA. YESSS this turned out way better than I thought it would turn out! You seriously do so good Dan).
ANYWAY!
I'm sorry-not-sorry this was the favorite part of the chapter.
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Vellum is an old form of something to write on that I don't know what it's made of, for this purpose it's a paper substitute.
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Vellum, in case you’re wondering, is traditionally made from calf skin. It is still used to some extent today as it has a longer life than pulp paper. It is commonly referred to as parchment.
I was grinning the whole time. Brilliant work!
Eh, six out of ten. I kept expecting Adagio to wake up from a bizarre dream since the overall tone and feel was so...surreal compared to the rest of the stories.
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Fair. TBH I don't know how long I'll keep this particular iteration of the fic up, and of course there have been wildly different tones over the course of the series, so it's good for me to know what lands and what doesn't.
Here's what i imagine this song sounded like.
With the rise of self driveing cars i expect a country song to be about a mans truck leaving him for a sedan before long.
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As much I'd miss it, I got to see Werepone Sunset. I'm happy
Also hearing you say "this interaction of the fic" and not the fic itself gives me high hopes for the future
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Just yet another reminder that even Satan never tries to call her a sweet young thing even though he could arguably get away with it. Sure, it'd end with him getting both metaphorically and literally kicked in the stomach but that was going to happen anyway. Point is, he's older than she is if the stories have any truth to them, but not by nearly the same ratio he is for everyone else.
Country music isn't bad, it's just a little ridiculous without having any idea that it's ridiculous
That’s weird, why does satan avoid punk because of all the nazis when all the nazis are invading country music?
i.redd.it/3ioimo63kc621.jpg
I'm desperately trying to hold in my laughter as I read this in the dead of the night.
Is this story Cannon? I'm asking not because oh now its political how terrible but because it ruins Adagio's chance at a music career even at an orchestra or something because she went so against her deal rather then just refusing. And Satan is an asshole rather then a nice but cowardly guy. Sorry for critising the chapter it was fun and silly, I just kinda don't want it to be cannon, so I'm asking the author if it is.
You know, this reminds me of a certain Chick tract.
chick.com/images/tracts/0034/0034_21.gif?
Country was what was on the car radio when I was a little kid, mostly.
And even I noticed back then that, about a year or so after Reagan took office, country changed- HARD. By the time I was in middle school, what you got on the radio was what I call Smug Country; it had gone from songs of heartbreak, poverty and regret to songs about how wonderful it is that we are white, American, and own a truck, a woman, and a boat, not necessarily in that order of importance.
No, country isn't that bad. It's worse, and if it wasn't for Willie Nelson I'd say it was irredeemable.
No, no....country IS that bad. Take it from someone who listened to it exclusively until a couple years ago.
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It is. But Adagio will be okay.
"But I'm great at burning things to the ground!"
As has been noted, the use of actual, literal Satan in a throwaway gag does feel like a bit of a waste, but hey, no one said it couldn't be some demonic poser going for the big man's name and hoping he doesn't notice.
In any case, I can certainly appreciate Adagio's artistic struggle and response to an offer to corrupt the heart of who she is.
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You sassy bitch.
(points if you get the reference)
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I laughed at that tweet. Well done, sir.
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Ew, Chick Tracts.
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Chick tracts are the freaking racist. They're often absurdly homophobic, to boot.
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You're welcome! I'm glad it got so many people to smile.
No don't apologize, country music sucks. Almost all of it now a days has a horrific underlying level of right wing entitlement, racism, homophobia, and sexism.
Me when I publish anything on FimFiction.
Adagio both conning Satan and taking a swipe at him is incredible. I like the idea that even an evil siren takes her music seriously.
And yeah, country music is less about beauty and manhood and more about cheap political statements with loads of racism and bigotry.
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Haven't you heard? Cheap political statements with loads of racism and bigotry are what manhood is all about, at least if you listen to the only people who still care about "manliness" as a concept. And those people are being increasingly marginalized because... well, let's just say I realized something halfway through typing this and deleted a "now" from the previous sentence.
(Something else I've said on the matter: real men are secure enough in their masculinity that they can do non-manly things. Anything else you hear is posturing from people who don't meet that definition.)
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In all seriousness, I think racism and bigotry are emotions of the weak-willed. If you blame all your problems on (so and so race or ethnic group) you are a mentally feeble person who can be easily manipulated.
True manhood is about courage, and mocking someone for an "un-manly" trait is anything but.
To be fair there is Country Music then there is Racist Christian Country. Just like there is Rap Music and Violent Thug Rap Music or Pop Music and Soulless Pop Music. Every music genera has it's horrifying version. Pretty much like everything. Hate and Cringe have no genera or medium limitations, any form of expression can be used to express horrible ideas.
A little political?🤨 Not gonna lie, my feelings on this chapter is mixed, but I'm going to leave it at that. On a barely related note, a pretty accurate depiction of the music industry🤔.
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It's even more fucked up that I barely had to exaggerate.
Hey, not all country is jingoistic bigoted shit, just too damn much of it. But even beyond the dead greats like Johnny Cash, there are a few folks around today making good country music. It's just not the stuff that tends to see most play.
Eeeeeeeeee... very sad that this fic is almost over if we are just now getting random kirin coming along for the fun! What isn't made better by adorable little fire cat-pones?
Then poor Adagio... at least she's getting a few people who truly appreciate her music. See my first thought was she could just play into this, use it to get a big enough fan base of her own, then pull a Taylor Swift and "reinvent herself" to bring those fans over to better quality music....
But given the base she'd be starting with... yeah, probably not a good idea. Plus while Satan might only be average evil for record execs, the dude has to have the most insidious contacts that cover so many loopholes.
But, at least she's slowly finding people who like her actual work... and hey, put out a few silly little viral hits now and then and laugh at the idiots.